


Mistletoeing & Hearts Glowing

by caitlinrose923



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitlinrose923/pseuds/caitlinrose923
Summary: My contributions to the CS 12 Days of Christmas 2017Found Here-Note: Due to work restrictions and time constraints, I was only able to complete 10/12 days of this challenge.





	1. Day One: 12/14/17

**Author's Note:**

> The challenge:  
> Dec 14: Workaholic/ Business Rivals during Christmas

Emma Swan was a busy, busy woman. She had perps to catch, arrests to make, and overwhelming parents to please. Christmas multiplied her stress tenfold, and she felt like she was being stretched far too thin in every direction.

She was in a rush, stopping just long enough to get her caffeine fix at the coffee shop on the corner on her way to work. During the slower months, her morning coffee run was her escape. She had ten minutes to wait in line, order, and wait for her drink to be made. Ten blissful minutes to think of things _besides_ the case she couldn’t close, the suspect that wouldn’t confess, the parents she had gone two and a half decades without before they’d somehow found her.

Twenty-five Christmases alone – even when she’d been in foster homes and group homes, she’d always been alone – and suddenly these two charming, loving, caring couple had stumbled into her life, claiming they’d been searching for her since they’d turned eighteen, two years after she’d been born.

So now, there were no more Christmases alone. Now, she had to work double-time during the week before Christmas so that she could go do cheesy, horrible, Hallmark Channel style holiday activities with her _parents_.

Which meant that on December 23rd, she didn’t get to think of nothing while she waited for her coffee. Instead, she had to have one conversation on the phone while simultaneously having another via text, while also looking up information on the case she was working.

“Half coffee, half hot chocolate,” she told the barista without looking up from her phone. She hated customers like herself – had dealt with them in all of her years working minimum wage behind a counter very similar to this one – but she had exactly nine hours to finish roughly fifteen hours worth of work, and she still needed to cook something for Christmas dinner— “Actually, might need a full coffee today. Extra cream and sugar, if you could.”

“Switching it up for once, love?”

“No choice, I--,” Emma finally looked up to see the face behind the lilting accent and was struck by _very_ blue eyes staring right into her. She felt some of the tension she’d been carrying in her shoulders dissipate, as though he were the answer to a question she hadn’t known she’d been asking.

“How about one of each then? Hot chocolate’s on me. Happy holidays.” He grinned at her, and she felt a smile creeping up in return.

“That would be wonderful. Just a--,”

“Pinch of cinnamon. I take the order every morning, love, I’ve got it down pat.”

“Oh um…thanks.” How had she never noticed that her barista was so _hot_? Especially since he had apparently been her barista for so long that he knew her order by _heart_?

She waited at the other end of the counter, briefly disappointed that she hadn’t had time to try and chat more with the incredibly good-looking English barista. She quickly returned to her phone call, blue eyes nearly forgotten.

The following morning, she’d been planning on skipping her daily coffee run. She’d probably get her sugar fix from her mother’s baking later that evening anyway. Mary Margaret was trying to make up for lost time, it seemed, by cramming every single type of remotely Christmas-y cookie and cake and brownie into every single Christmas Emma spent with her and David. It was, if Emma were honest with herself, amazing.

Still, she found herself at the shop on the corner, yanking the door open—

Only to find it locked.

Emma was a bit surprised by how disappointed she was. It had been a last-minute decision to get coffee, so why were her shoulders drooping at the thought of going without it? She was just about to turn around and head back to her apartment to make herself a cup from her crappy coffee maker, when she heard jingling coming towards her at a very fast pace.

“Sorry, love, I was running a bit late today. I didn’t think I’d have any customers today, especially not this early. Should have known you’d need your fix.”

The incredibly hot barista was talking more quickly than Emma could comprehend his words – likely due to the lack of caffeine in her system – and suddenly there were keys in the door – that was the jingling she’d heard then – and he was standing in the doorway, inviting her inside.

“Half and half, or one of each again?”

Emma still hadn’t caught up to the conversation, to the fact that a barista had keys to the coffee shop, to the fact that said barista had come _running_ when he’d seen her at the door.

“How about a latte? You seem like you could use a bit of espresso this morning. The holidays working you extra hard?”

Finally, Emma’s brain and vocal cords and mouth all caught up to her at once.

“Yep.”

Such a conversationalist.

“Latte then?” The barista – she really needed to find out his name – smirked at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Sure, why not.”

He was silent while he flicked on lights and turned on machines, getting ready for the day

“Isn’t anyone else working today?” Emma asked suddenly.

“Nah, I always give my staff the holidays off. As I said, I don’t expect many customers today, so I can handle it.”

“Your staff?”

“Indeed.” He held up his keys again. “Killian Jones, the one and only owner of the fine establishment you find yourself in.”

“You own the Jolly Roger?”

“Indeed.”

“But you’re…a barista.”

“I work the register and make the drinks when I’m needed, yes,” he blushed a bit and Emma couldn’t figure out why. She just knew she was _very_ glad that no other caffeine addicts had walked through the door quite yet.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be for the holidays?” She regretted the question as soon as it was out of her mouth. She’d been asked the same thing for her entire life, never getting used to the looks of pity that came in response to her constant answer in the negative.

“No, can’t say that I do.”

“You should come to dinner with me.” Oh God, Emma _really_ needed her caffeine. She couldn’t just go around inviting random strangers to dinner with her and her folks. Even if they were particularly good-looking strangers with piercing blue eyes who had memorized her coffee order.

“I should?”

“No one should be alone on Christmas.”

He smiled a bit, but then he was running the machine that made the milk foam and he couldn’t talk and Emma felt so horribly silly, and maybe a little crazy, for inviting him to dinner with her on Christmas of all days—

“Sure, I’ll come.”

“Wait seriously? I’m a total stranger. I could be inviting you to something…creepy or horrifying.”

“Something tells me, love, that you’re just inviting me to a regular Christmas dinner.”

“Well, my parents are hosting it. So, that’s vaguely terrifying, isn’t it?”

“Nah. Anyone who raised someone like the hard-working woman who comes in here six days a week, orders the same thing, and always tips generously – even when her order is wrong – can’t be all that bad.”

“They didn’t raise me, actually.”

Killian raised an eyebrow, and hummed in response, but didn’t question her meaning.

“All the same, they must have had something to do with who you are. And, I must confess, I’ve been dying to know more about you since the first time you walked in.”

“You have?”

He came around the counter and handed her the latte – in a mug instead of a to-go cup.

“Sure. I hoped you’d be the type for a foamy drink so I could impress you with my artistic skill, but alas, always that coffee/hot chocolate hybrid.”

“Until today,” Emma knew she should look at whatever design he’d made in her foam, was sure she would be thoroughly impressed by whatever it was, but she was determined to hold his gaze just a bit longer.

“Until today,” he echoed, stepping into her space just a bit.

She finally looked down.

“Is that mistletoe?”

“Indeed.”

“I _am_ impressed.” She looked back up at him to find that one eyebrow raised, and that damn smirk plastered on his face.

“I’d hoped you would be,” he bit his lip.

Emma rolled her eyes, fully intending to shut him down and possibly find a new coffee place. But then she thought about how quickly her tension had eased when he’d smiled at her the day before, how he’d sensed her stress and had given her a free drink, how he’d come running when he’d seen her disappointment at finding the doors locked.

“Merry Christmas, Killian Jones.” And she kissed him. He was surprised for a moment, but then responded eagerly. He took the mug from her hands, placed it on the counter beside them, and pulled himself flush against her.

They pulled apart suddenly when a gust of cold air blew through the open door as a customer walked in, looking as shocked as they felt.

Emma felt the tips of her ears turn red, but Killian simply smiled.

“Welcome to the Jolly Roger. What can I get you, mate?”

Emma quickly wrote her number down on a napkin and slid it into Killian’s tip jar while he took the man’s order. Then she slipped quietly out the door, holding onto her Jolly Roger signature mug with both hands.


	2. Day Two: 12/15/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The challenge:  
> Dec 15: City man/woman returns home to small town after being away
> 
> CW- VERY brief mentions of: alcohol, drunk driving, miscarriage/abortion (rumored, not factual), abuse, and a minor character death (canon).  
> Strongly anti-Neal, SORRY.

“Welcome to Portland, Maine. The temperature is currently 28 degrees, so bundle up, and thank you for traveling with Amtrak!” The speaker made a harsh staticky noise as the conductor sloppily shut it down. Emma stood and stretched.

A four hour train ride really wasn’t all that bad, but knowing she was traveling home for the holidays for the first time in a decade had added a bit of extra cramping to the muscles in her neck and back.

She needed a massage.

She waited for some of the seats around her to empty out before reaching above her seat to grab her oversized suitcase.

“Need a hand, love?”

“No, thanks.” Emma rolled her eyes and shoved past the stranger, suitcase in hand.

She hadn’t been home since she’d turned 18, always forcing her brother and sister-in-law to visit her in Boston instead. She’d barely made it out of Storybrooke alive the first time, so returning simply hadn’t been an option. Until the previous summer, when Neal Gold had been locked up, finally, and Storybrooke seemed just a bit less nausea-inducing.

Emma shook Neal out of her head, determined to make this visit home different from when she had lived here. She was here for her family, nothing more.

As she waited on the sidewalk for her Uber Pool to arrive, she felt a presence appear next to her. Her headphones were plugged into her phone, but no music was playing – a basic tactic she used to avoid conversations with strangers in situations just like this one. She lucked out, and the person next to her didn’t attempt to make any sort of small talk, and they waited together in companionable silence.

Until her Uber arrived, and he went to climb in with her.

“Um, Emma? And Killian?” The driver called through the open window.

“Yep, that’s us.” Emma recognized his voice as the one who’d offered his assistance on the train.

Finally, she looked up at the stranger beside her.

“Killian _Jones_?” She gasped.

“Hey, are you two gettin’ in or what?” The Uber driver called from inside the vehicle.

“Now that you know I’m not a stranger out to steal your belongings, will you allow me to help you with your suitcase?” Killian gestured towards the trunk of the car.

“That’s not…I don’t…fine.” Emma rolled her eyes.

Killian Jones had been the ultimate Storybrooke High School playboy. Emma had been in love with him from the first time she’d seen him – she’d visited the high school in the eighth grade, and he’d been a sophomore. She hadn’t even known he’d been aware of her existence, and now they were sharing an Uber Pool back to their _very_ small hometown.

 _That’s us_ , he’d said.

After they were safely buckled in and their driver began their twenty minute ride together, Killian wasted no time in striking up a conversation.

“I haven’t seen you since I graduated, how are you?”

“Um…fine. I moved to--,”

“Boston, right? I live there, too. I thought that was you when I was boarding the train, but I wasn’t sure until I saw you struggling with your suitcase.”

“I wasn’t _struggling_.”

He laughed, and Emma was suddenly back in the high school cafeteria, off to the side with her small, ragtag group of friends. Killian sat at the center table, surrounded by the rich kids and the star athletes, despite not falling into either category. He was always smiling, and the way he laughed now, in this Uber, was somehow even better than how he’d laughed in high school. His smile, certainly, was wider.

“Still the same Emma I remember.”

“How do you remember me at all?” The words were out before she could think better of them, and he wasn’t laughing anymore. Their eyes met, and he looked genuinely surprised.

“We took the same drawing class my senior year. Don’t _you_ remember?”

She did. Of course she did. She’d spent the entirety of the semester trying to remind herself that she had a _boyfriend_ so she couldn’t be staring at Killian Jones all period.

“Um, yeah. I just…didn’t think I’d made an impression.”

“Mr. Hopper used your charcoal drawing of a swan as an example of shading for like…every single assignment.”

“Yeah, but that’s my _art_ , that’s not _me_.”

“I disagree.” He smirked a bit, and somehow they were sitting closer together despite their seatbelts keeping them in place. “Anyway, I remember you arguing with Hopper over every assignment, always wanting to do things your own way. That’s…what I meant. When I said you were the same.”

Emma shook her head, trying to will her scrambled thoughts back into place.

“What brings you back to Storybrooke on this horribly cold weekend?” A totally subtle change of subject should do the trick.

Killian looked lost for a moment, his brows coming together in confusion, but then his smile returned.

“I’m doing a talk at the high school, actually.”

“A talk?”

“Yeah, they asked me to talk about the dangers of drunk driving. I guess they have a former graduate do the talk every year now. Means more to the kids to have someone who’s walked the same halls tell them about it, than to have some random cop off the street do it. Plus, you know, Liam…” His eyes darkened a bit.

Everyone had known about Liam Jones – star quarterback of the Storybrooke High School football team. He was set to graduate three years prior to Killian, so Emma had never actually _met_ him, but she knew of him all the same. He’d been killed by a drunk driver during his senior year, when Killian had been a freshman. Every year, right before the winter formal, the school had someone speak to the student body about the dangers of drunk driving, and they always talked about Liam Jones.

Killian cleared his throat suddenly.

“What about you? What brings you back to lovely old Storybrooke?”

“I’m here for Christmas.”

“Have you been home since…” He bit his lip, unsure if he was allowed to finish the question.

“Since everything with Neal?” Emma found herself surprised again. If you’d told her an hour ago that Killian Jones had not only known who she was, by name, but that he also knew about all the drama of her senior year of high school, she would have laughed herself silly.

There’d been a lot of rumors about Emma and Neal. The biggest one was that she’d gotten pregnant had had somehow lost the baby. And so she’d disappeared.

A lie, just like all the other rumors. Emma wondered which one – or ones – Killian had heard. Which ones he believed.

She wondered what he thought of her.

The truth was that Neal had hit her – just once, that was all it had taken – and she’d broken up with him. It should have been simple, a clean break. The messy part was that she knew about all of his seedy lifestyle secrets: drug deals and selling stolen high-end items on the sly. She knew where he kept his money, his stash, everything. So he’d tried to frame her for crime after crime, planting drugs in her locker and a stolen purse in her car. He’d tried to get rid of her anyway he knew how.

Luckily, Emma had had an alibi for everything he’d tried to pin on her. Unfortunately, Neal Gold was nothing if not determined. So, as soon as Emma held that diploma in her hand, she ran. She fled to Boston, promising herself that she’d never go back to Storybrooke, to Neal, to any of it.

But finally, Neal was gone. And though she’d never admit it out loud, Emma was a bit glad to be back. And it definitely had nothing to do with the piercing blue eyes sharing a backseat with her on a chilly December afternoon. Absolutely not.

“Yeah. I didn’t…I never was sure what really happened. I guess it’s none of my business, though.” He scratched behind his ear.

“It doesn’t matter. No, I haven’t been back since. But Neal’s gone now. So…here I am, I guess.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry to see him locked up if he did anything like what the rumor mill was spitting out.” He raised one eyebrow. As he spoke, Emma realized the car had stopped, that they were in Storybrooke, about to go their separate ways. “I know this is probably crazy but…would you want to get a drink tonight? To celebrate coming home, or something cheesy like that?”

Emma stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open.

“A drink?” She asked as they climbed out of the car.

“Or dinner. Whichever suits your fancy.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled nervously, hand hovering over the trunk of the car.

“A drink…sounds really nice.”

“Aesop’s Tables? 9PM?”

“Okay.”

“Good to see you again, Emma.” He grinned as he lifted her suitcase out for her, not waiting to ask permission this time.

“You too, Killian.”

Emma could not _wait_ to tell Mary Margaret about this. Happy Holidays, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a few days late! I've been working crazy hours, but I'm hoping to catch up and complete all, or most, of the 12 day challenge. Thanks for reading!


	3. Day Three: 12/16/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The challenge:  
> • Dec 16: Secret prince/princess 
> 
> Obviously this is a little late, but I'll blame my absurd work schedule again :D
> 
> Mentions of sexual activities in this one, but no smut at all.

“Good morning, princess,” a warm voice cooed in her ear.

Emma’s eyes shot open.

“What did you call me?” She turned on him quickly, desperate to put space between herself and the man she’d gone home with the night before. If he knew…she had to go. She should never have stayed. This had all been a horrible—

“Not one for pet names, I take it. Very well. Perhaps if you’d given me your real name…” his eyebrow quirked up as he spoke, and his fingers traces his lips, as though he were remembering last night as well as she was.

“I did give you my name. I told you it’s--,”

“Your name is not Leia, love, and we both know it.”

“My parents were huge Star Wars fans.”

His other eyebrow raised, crinkling his forehead. His arm was still around her waist, not allowing her to move away from him as she so desired.

Well no, not _desired_ , exactly, so much as _needed_. She wanted to stay, to be normal and do things like wake up in a stranger’s bed and repeat the activities from the previous evening. But duty called, and her secret kept her walls up.

“My name doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree there, dear.”

She rolled her eyes and gingerly moved his arm away from her still-naked body. She climbed out of bed – a stranger’s bed!! – and dressed herself. He watched, and she moved slowly, allowing him to see what he’d already touched.

“I don’t suppose I can call you then?” And his voice was just a bit less sure when he asked. She nearly wavered, nearly told him everything.

“If we’re meant to see each other again, we will.”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

He walked her out, and she swore she heard him sigh when she leaned up against the door after it had closed behind him.

**

“Mother, it’s Christmas. Can’t you take one single day off from trying to marry me off?” Emma hated how she sounded when she complained, but she couldn’t help the whine to her voice.

They’d had their annual holiday dinner the week before, and had agreed to spend Christmas day itself together as a family. But, in true Queen Mary Margaret fashion, Emma’s mother had to find _someone_ to bring as Emma’s date.

“Emma, I am _not_ trying to marry you off. I simply want you to find _love_. And I know you’ll never do it yourself.” Their eyes met in the mirror, and Emma knew that her mother’s look meant to stop arguing.

Still, Emma couldn’t think of her mother’s line of potential suitors when she still had dark hair and blue eyes and a leather jacket at the forefront of her mind.

“He’s bound to be better than Neal anyway,” Emma muttered, and her statement earned a chuckle out of her mother.

“ _Prince_ Neal was certainly not all he was cracked up to be. I’ll admit, it would have been a wise match for the kingdom, but not a happy one for you.” Mary Margaret continued brushing Emma’s golden strands of hair. She wouldn’t allow any of their numerous staff to brush Emma’s hair – this was their time to bond.

“Please tell me the man coming tonight isn’t a prince,” Emma begged. “I know you want me to marry royalty, but—”

“I know, Emma. He’s not. He’s the younger brother of an old friend of your father.”

“How much younger!?” Emma imagined courting a man only a few years younger than her own father and felt sick at the thought.

“Fifteen years,” Mary Margaret laughed again. “Do you remember your father talking about Liam? His closest friend from school?”

“The one who died after Daddy’s coronation?”

“That’s the one,” Emma’s mother looked sad for a moment, but then she met Emma’s eyes in the mirror again. “His younger brother was practically a baby then. His name is Killian. He’s been traveling for over a decade now, but he’s back and he told your father he was here for good this time. We would have invited him for dinner anyway, so don’t flatter yourself thinking tonight is all about you. And he has nowhere else to go, so at least try to be nice.”

Emma stuck her tongue out at her mother.

“Very ladylike.”

**

“Presenting, Sir Killian Jones,” the herald declared.

“Did you really need someone to announce me, David? It’s 2017, for crying out loud. And your kingdom is smaller than the city of New York, you know that, right?”

Emma was seated at the table already while her father greeted their guest, but her ears perked up at his voice. It couldn’t be…

But as they entered the dining room together, her father teasing…Killian?...about his being a special guest who needed special treatment, it appeared that it could, in fact, be.

He recognized her instantly, of course, and his jaw dropped. She looked away, but it was too late. Her mother, seated directly across from her, had already noticed. There would be questions later, Emma knew.

Once Killian recovered from his initial shock, he settled into the seat beside her.

“Killian, this is my daughter, Emma.”

“Ah, Emma. That’s a beautiful name,” and Emma was staring at her dinner, couldn’t possibly look at him, but she could easily picture the smirk on his face.

“Thank you,” she said to her roasted chicken.

Given Emma’s history of ignoring the men her parents brought to dinner on a regular basis, it wasn’t difficult to fool her father into thinking there was nothing different about Killian. Her mother, on the other hand, knew something was amiss. She kept catching Emma’s eye all throughout dinner, giving Emma her patented _We need to talk_ face.

Killian caught her first. She had excused herself, claiming she wanted some air before they moved onto dessert, and she’d heard Killian asking where the nearest lavatory was.

“Leia was the best you could do, then?” He teased her as he grabbed her wrist in the hall.

“I couldn’t tell you--,”

“I know.” And he wasn’t teasing anymore.

“Besides, you’re one to talk, ‘KJ’.” She tried to fight the smile forcing her lips to turn upwards, but there was mistletoe above her head, in the doorway between the hallways and the balcony, and she hadn’t stopped thinking about KJ – Killian Jones – in the three days since she’d left his bed.

“Those are my initials. It’s a nickname.” The grin returned, his teeth shining bright.

Emma’s eyes glanced upwards – an accident, she’d swear later – and he caught the movement and followed her glance.

“Did you lead me here, princess, hoping for a kiss on Christmas?” He took a step closer, his body nearly flush against hers.

“I didn’t lead you anywhere, you followed me.”

“You know, you did say that if we were meant to see each other again--,”

“—we would,” she cut him off with a whisper.

“I wonder what it’d be like to kiss a princess,” Killian’s smile was gone again, his eyes dark as he leaned in closer.

“I’m fairly certain you already know,” Emma was on her tiptoes before she realized what she was doing, closing the minuscule distance between them.

Their lips had barely met when Emma heard a familiar sigh from the direction of the dining hall.

“Good, you’ve gotten _that_ out of the way,” Mary Margaret was saying. “Can you please come back to dinner before your father realizes you’ve already slept with his friend? He was skeptical of this match to begin with. Please don’t make him moreso.”

Emma followed her mother obediently, but Killian held onto her hand until the last possible moment, as they rounded the corner. He left after dinner – and she was tempted to leave with him, but her mother would never allow it, of course – but not without another kiss and soft _Merry Christmas, princess_ in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written quickly and I'd love to expand it sometime, but there you have it.


	4. Day Four: 12/17/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Challenge:  
> Dec 17: Fake significant other
> 
> I straight up did not re-read this before posting it. I am hopped up on cold meds and just wanted to post it because I love the premise so have some messy fake s/o trope Christmas romance.

_Man seeking woman to shut his friends the hell up for the holidays_ , the ad read. _Look, I’m a decent looking guy – photos attached, nothing dirty, unless you’re into that ;) – but I’m just not into the whole pairing off, couples for life bullshit that all my friends seem to be so fond of. Every Christmas, we get together and they rag on me for going stag. I just want to bring someone so they’ll shut it for one goddamn night. They’re all coming from out of town, so it would truly just be for the one night. I’d pay you or we can fool your friends, too, if they’re as shitty as mine. Email me and we can set something up. Dinner is in 6 days, so we may have to meet day-of if we don’t hurry._

Emma couldn’t believe Ruby would link her to an ad like this. Who was so desperate for a woman that they’d take to craigslist to find a fake date?

“Message him!!!” Ruby had said.

“Why!?” Emma typed back.

“Because you can _finally_ get MM  & her Prince Charming to leave you the hell alone for once,” Ruby’s reply somehow had a smirk and sass to it, even over Facebook messenger.

“FINE. But if I get killed, you have to tell everyone at the funeral that you sent me to my death.”

“Deal. Have fun ;)”

And so that was how Emma Swan found herself meeting an attractive Englishman for coffee mere hours before a dinner he was paying her to attend.

“Um, Emma?”

Holy _shit_.

KJones420 was _way_ hotter in person than he had been in his pictures, and that was saying something. His hair was messy, his eyes shining. His shirt was practically halfway unbuttoned, and the chest hair that peeked out would probably be soft if Emma just—

Her brain came to a screeching halt.

This is a _job_ , Emma, she told herself.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she managed to smile and hold out her hand to shake his.

He ignored it and wrapped her in a hug instead.

“Sorry. It’s just…you’re kind of my savior right now. I couldn’t take another Christmas of my cousin and her husband telling me how I just need to _find the right girl_ and _aren’t I lonely_ and whatever other sad nonsense she feels like spewing out this year.”

Emma laughed, thinking of Mary Margaret.

“My best friend is the same way. She has this corny, fairy tale romance and I’ve just…never wanted that for myself. But she doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m missing out on something by being single at the ripe old age of 28.”

“So you’re doing this then?”

“I’m game if you are!”

They spent an hour getting to know each other in a coffee shop. Their favorite sports (hers, baseball; his, soccer, though he kept annoyingly correcting her and calling it football), drinks of choice (hot chocolate with cinnamon for her, Irish coffee for him), and childhood secrets (she’d broken a creepy clown trinket that an old foster mother of hers had, but had blamed it on the cat; he’d ratted out his best friend for cheating on a spelling test). They found similarities in their taste in music and television, but she loved horror movies and action flicks, while he preferred a good comedy over anything else. If anyone had walked by them, sitting close together on a couch in the corner, their mugs largely untouched on the table in front of them, laughing hysterically and whispering conspiratorially, it would have looked like a date.

But it wasn’t, Emma reminded herself. It was a job, a totally fake date that she’d either get paid for or that she’d get to use to fool her own friends, too. A win-win, really.

A bonus that the guy was insanely good looking with a charming accent to boot.

He texted her his address and asked her to be there before 6. She took a sip of her room temperature hot chocolate and watched him leave.

**

“Holy shit, you’re early.”

“You said to be here by 6. It’s 5:45.”

Truthfully, she would have been even earlier, but her hair wouldn’t curl right and she’d planned to wear her hot pink skintight dress with her favorite leather jacket, but she’d apparently spilled something on it and there was a huge stain on the hem. So, she’d had to settle for her second favorite: a soft baby pink dress, her hair high up in a ponytail to hide the imbalance in the curls.

“Swan, you look…,”

“I know,” she said, and pushed her way into his apartment. “Hey, this is a really nice place!”

“Were you expecting otherwise?”

“I didn’t know _what_ to expect, honestly!” There was exposed brick on one wall, a large window facing the skyline on the other. He had a large TV, set to that weird fireplace channel with soft Christmas music playing. His kitchen was huge and open, and there were foil-covered pans on every surface, as though he’d cooked the whole meal himself.

“Are your friends bringing food, too?”

Killian made a face.

“No. I don’t trust Regina – that’s my cousin, remember – near a stove, and Robin specializes in chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese--,”

“For um…Roland, right?”

“You’ve got it!” He looked genuinely pleased that she’d remembered all of the buckets of information he’d poured on her earlier.

They opened a bottle of wine to ease their nerves, and the buzzer for the front door went off somewhere in the middle of their second glass.

“That’ll be them. You ready, Swan?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She wasn’t sure why she was even nervous – if they didn’t pull this off, it was no loss on her end. She’d gotten to hang out with a hot guy for Christmas dinner. These weren’t even her friends. She wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout if it all went sour. But Emma still found herself hoping things went well, that Killian’s friends would believe them as a couple and that he’d be happy.

Killian’s cousin, as it turned out, was a tough cookie. Regina looked skeptical of the “couple” from the get-go, her eyebrow raised high on her head and her lips pursed as she appraised Emma from top to bottom. Though her stern look faded a bit when Emma offered to help Killian with the dishes and clean-up, she didn’t look fully convinced either.

“I don’t know, Killian,” Regina whispered to him when she thought no one else could hear her. Emma had stepped into the kitchen to find her phone to show Robin a picture of Mary Margaret – it turned out that they may have taken archery lessons together back in high school, when Robin had still lived in the area. Regina and Killian were around the corner in the dining room. Emma hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she was intrigued.

“What do you mean exactly?”

“I don’t trust her.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t trust anyone when it comes to you. You’re too quick to accept everyone for who they claim to be.”

“And who, exactly, do you think Emma Swan is?”

“Do you know she’s been to jail?”

Emma gasped. She’d thought they weren’t doing a good job of fooling Regina into thinking they were a couple – it turned out they’d been doing a good enough job that Regina had _done research_.

“Everything okay in here, Emma?” Robin was behind her suddenly.

“Yep, sorry, I was just trying to sneak another cookie before Killian undoubtedly sent them home with you!”

“They’re good, right? He tell you it’s his mother’s recipe?”

“No,” Emma said softly, “he didn’t.”

Regina and Killian returned, both of them looking far too angry for Christmas dinner. Regina quickly ushered Robin and Roland out the door, quick goodbyes and promises to visit again soon called from the doorway.

“I should go too, I guess,” Emma whispered.

“You heard me talking to Regina, didn’t you?”

Emma stared at the floor. This was a _job_. Why was she getting emotional?

“I heard you gasp. I don’t think Regina heard you, or at least she didn’t let on that she did. I don’t care, by the way.”

“That I went to jail?”

“Aye. I was lucky not to spend time behind bars myself for some of the mistakes I’ve made.”

“How’d she know?”

“She’s a lawyer. She’s just a generally thorough person. I told her your name and I guess she just dug up whatever she could find. I’m sorry she made you uncomfortable.”

Emma rubbed her arm, wishing she’d still worn her leather jacket even though it would have looked ridiculous with the soft tulle dress.

“She’s pretty protective of you.”

“She has her reasons. And she means well. She’ll come around.”

They looked at each other, Killian’s eyes widening as he realized what he said.

“I mean…she would…if we were…if you were…but we’re not, so…” he was stuttering as she asked,

“Do you want to come to my Christmas dinner?”

His mouth hung open for a moment.

“As your fake date?”

Emma took a deep breath, trying to feel as confident as she was about to act.

“As my real date. I had a good time at the coffee shop earlier and I like your friends and I think you’d like mine, so I think, even though we met under the premise of dating being stupid, that we should probably try it anyway,” she was rambling and she knew it, but her mouth was working faster than her brain.

“Yes, Swan. I agree. When’s dinner?”

“Friday?”

“Count me in.”

There was still far too much space between them, an entire kitchen separating her pale pink tulle dress and her high ponytail from his artfully mussed black hair and blue button-down shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes.

“Will you bake those cookies for me?”

“Sure, Swan.”

“Killian?”

“Yeah?”

“It’d probably be okay if you did something _really_ cheesy and kissed me or something right now.”

It took two steps for each of them to meet in the middle and when they kissed, she ran her hands over the chest hair that peeked out of his shirt and it _was_ soft. And her ponytail was a lost cause afterwards and he lent her a leather jacket to take home, but only if she promised to wear it to dinner on Friday, and maybe Saturday, too, when they planned yet another dinner, just the two of them.


	5. Day Five: 12/18/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The challenge:  
> • Dec 18: Love triangle
> 
> Look at me, posting every day now! I'll have to post a ton tomorrow and Christmas if I hope to get all of these prompts done :o

If Emma Swan didn’t know any better, she would think that Mary Margaret thought of her as a desperate, lonely, sad spinster.

It was the week before Christmas, and Emma’s nicest, most caring, most romantically-inclined friend had set her up on _four dates_ in hopes that Emma would find love in time to kiss them under the mistletoe. It was, quite frankly, ridiculous. And over-the-top, even for Mary Margaret.

Her first date was with an insanely good-looking guy named Killian. He was charming and sure of himself, and he held the door open for her and pulled out her chair. He laughed at her stupid jokes and listened intently when she found herself telling him about her childhood in the foster system.

He programmed his number directly into her phone, saying they shouldn’t need to go through Mary Margaret to plan a second date. And he’d looked at her hopefully when he’d said it, eyes bright and blue and she found herself smiling and agreeing that they should definitely do this again. He walked her to her car and left her with a kiss on her cheek and his borrowed hoodie that he’d insisted she take when she’d shivered from the chill in the air.

She slept with it on, dreaming of dark hair and an unshaven face with a snarky smile.

The next night, Emma nearly went to jail for murder. Mary Margaret had insisted on blind dates – wouldn’t tell Emma any names or descriptions ahead of time – and now Emma knew why. Sitting across from her was her ex, Neal Gold, who’d been trying to get her to take him back for the better part of a year.

She let out a deep sigh, resigning herself to the torture she was sure to endure, sitting across from a self-obsessed know-it-all like Neal. She listened as he tried to talk himself up, discussing the money he was making working for his father’s firm, and the new car he’d bought. Luckily, the date was cut short when a woman named Tamara called. Neal stepped outside to take the call, but not before Emma heard a _hey baby_ from the other end. She snuck out the back door while he was gone, vowing to get Mary Margaret a bunch of coal in place of the shadow box she’d put together over the past month.

Despite her misgivings, she decided to continue with the dates. Still, she found herself sleeping with Killian’s hoodie once again, promising herself she’d call him after this entire arrangement was done.

Walsh was nice enough at first, if a bit boring, but when Emma wouldn’t give him her phone number immediately after the date was over, he grew angry and threw a few choice words her way. He found her on Facebook ten minutes after he’d left, sending her a barrage of messages apologizing for his behavior. She accepted his apology, but said it might be best if they didn’t see each other again. The switch flipped again and she blocked him with a harsh sigh.

Emma was pleasantly surprised by her final date. Graham was an old friend, one she’d never thought of romantically. He confessed that he’d asked Mary Margaret to set them up, since he’d been too nervous to ask her himself. The conversation flowed easily, but Emma admitted that she saw him as more of a friend. She tried to feel the spark he claimed to feel, but it simply wasn’t there.

He accepted her truth with a sad smile, but pointed above her head as they exited the restaurant together.

“Mistletoe,” he said.

And Emma could have easily kissed his cheek, or simply left well enough alone, but it was Christmas and Graham was sweet and he knew she didn’t have feelings for him. So she reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him quickly on the lips.

It was only after she pulled away that she saw a familiar face walking towards her on the sidewalk. A face she’d hoped to see again, but certainly not immediately after she’d been kissing another man.

“Killian!” she called, leaving Graham behind on the front step of the restaurant, a questioning look on his face.

“Save it, Emma,” Killian spat.

She grabbed his arm, willing him to face her.

“Killian, I was going to call you as soon as I got home tonight! I was hoping to see you again.”

“That’s why you were just making out with some other man, only, what…three days after what I thought was a _damn_ good date?”

“It was a good date! It’s just--,”

“What? Not looking for anything serious? Don’t want to settle down?” He sounded angry, but he looked lost, his eyes dull and his lips turned downward. “That’s great, Emma, and I’m happy you’re able to live that way, but I’m just looking to date one person at a time, you know? That’s just who I am. And I don’t generally go around kissing people if I’ve been hoping to see someone else.”

Emma bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. She wanted to explain, to tell him that Mary Margaret had done this, had set her up on all these dates, but that she’d been sleeping with his sweatshirt, waiting until the whole thing was over. That she’d been dying to invite him to Mary Margaret’s annual Christmas dinner, hoping he’d be her plus-one. But he didn’t look like he wanted to hear any of that. So she blinked back her tears, nodded her head, and walked back to her car alone.

Three days later, Emma showed up at Mary Margaret’s house, arms filled with gifts and cookies. She was going stag, yet again, but Mary Margaret knew better than to push her. Emma had called her after the run-in with Killian, had begged her to _never_ set her up on a blind date ever again, because Emma would always screw it up somehow.

“So just save us all the trouble, Ms, please.”

Mary Margaret had sighed, but agreed, apologizing again for the Neal incident.

“I had no idea he was seeing someone – he kept telling me he just wanted to see you one more time. I thought maybe you would re-kindle something. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Mary Margaret always had the best intentions, but she simply didn’t always know what was best for Emma.

“Emma! Welcome!” Mary Margaret was saying now, ushering Emma inside and taking some of the bags from her arms. “Almost everyone is here in the living room, we’ll eat soon, and then presents!”

Christmas dinner at the Nolans’ house seemed to grow each year. At first, it had been just the three of them: Mary Margaret, her husband David, and Emma. They sat around a folding table in the kitchen of the apartment they shared, three broke twenty-somethings just trying to find something to celebrate. After David had gotten promoted and Mary Margaret had secured a full-time teaching job, they’d bought a house, and started inviting co-workers to dinner.

Now, nearly a decade after that dimly lit kitchen with three chairs, Christmas dinner was an all-out affair, with adults and children and parents and siblings, with gift exchanges and everyone bringing a homemade dish of some sort.

Small wonder that Killian himself was invited to dinner, David’s partner at the precinct, and apparently a close friend of his as well. He wouldn’t meet Emma’s eyes, and she tried to remain on the opposite side of the room as often as possible, preferring to chat with Regina and Belle, turning her body completely away from Killian’s direction every time she caught herself glancing his way.

After dinner, she stepped outside for some air. Emma wasn’t one for large amounts of people in small spaces, but Christmas dinner was Mary Margaret’s Thing, and so she came and she talked and she mingled and she ate. She did it all because Mary Margaret would do absolutely anything for her, but she always needed to escape shortly after gifts were exchanged, to go back to the quiet of her apartment.

She was sitting on the front step, shivering a bit, wishing for a moment that she’d brought Killian’s hoodie with her. She realized, as the thought came to her, that she should have brought it so she could give it back to him. But perhaps she’d simply have to go through the awkward conversation with David, handing it to him and asking him to please give it back to Killian for her.

The door opened and closed quickly behind her.

“You know, I can’t keep lending you sweatshirts in hopes that you’ll be warm.”

Emma turned and was shocked to find blue eyes staring down at her. Killian motioned towards the step, silently asking for permission to join her. She nodded, and he sat.

“I should have brought your hoodie to give it back to you. I um…I’ve been sleeping in it. It’s warmer than any of mine, and more comfortable.”

She expected him to be angry, given their last exchange, but he smiled at her.

“You can keep it, Swan. I’ve got plenty.”

She nodded, but was at a loss for words. She wanted to try to explain Graham, the kiss, everything, but he wouldn’t want to hear it.

“I spoke with Mary Margaret,” he said suddenly.

“Oh?” Mary Margaret hadn’t mentioned that she’d talked to Killian after Emma had told her what had happened on the sidewalk.

“She said that she set you up on a bunch of dates? She um…she didn’t tell me that. She only told me that she wanted me to meet her best friend, that she thought we’d get along. I guess she thought you’d get along with a few people. I’d started to feel special,” he chuckled, “until I saw you with…,”

“Graham. He’s just a friend.”

“Didn’t look that way,” he said. And it wasn’t accusatory or angry, but mostly sad, and maybe a bit hopeful. Hopeful that he’d come out here with a question and that she’d give him the answer he was seeking.

“There was mistletoe. I’ve known Graham for, like, ten years. He told me he had feelings for me, that he asked Ms to set us up. But I told him I don’t see him romantically. He was really nice about it, but there was mistletoe, and it’s Christmas,” she shrugged. “It was a harmless kiss.” She finally looked up at him, and found him staring at her.

“Harmless, eh?” He smirked.

“Completely.”

“And what would you say if I told you that you and I happened to be sitting under some mistletoe as well?” He leaned in just a bit, enough to tell her what he wanted, but he left enough space between them that she had to close the gap.

“I’d probably just do this,” and she kissed him. And when they broke apart for breath, their foreheads touching, she grabbed his hand and linked their fingers together.

“Was that harmless?” he asked, and he kissed her again, quickly.

“Not remotely,” she said. Her heart was pounding so fast, it couldn’t be healthy, and the cold was making her ears go numb. But she couldn’t move, didn’t want to leave this step or this moment.

“We should do it again sometime.”

“Kiss?”

“Date, kiss, all of it.”

“Yeah, we should.”

“New Year’s?”

“You’re not going to kiss me again until New Year’s?” Emma asked incredulously.

“Hmm. I’d hate to deprive you of my charming personality and my talented--,”

She kissed him again, just to shut him up. And when Mary Margaret opened the front door behind them, wondering where either of them could have possibly gone to before gifts had even been exchanged, she squealed and they broke apart. But he pulled her into his lap while they unwrapped gifts, and Emma didn’t need a bit of air for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, I guess I'm just a sucker for Emma not being able to stop thinking about Killian or something.


	6. Day Six: 12/19/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Challenge:  
> • Dec 19: Lost Christmas Spirit 
> 
> This is the longest one yet. Enjoy!  
> And happy Christmas Eve!

“I’m not saying I _hate_ Christmas. I’m just saying it doesn’t really…feel like Christmas this year,” Emma Swan was telling her best friend.

“Well, it doesn’t ever feel the same as an adult as it did when you were a kid,” Mary Margaret replied. “But that’s because as a kid, Christmas is magical by default. As an adult, you have to make the magic happen.”

“I can’t believe you’re talking to me about Christmas magic while I’m hanging sparkly silver garland in your classroom. This is too much.” Emma stuck another staple through the garland, securing it to the border of the bulletin board.

“If I’d known you were going to complain the whole time, I would have turned down your offer to help,” Mary Margaret stuck out her tongue.

“I complain every year, and you still invite me back,” Emma stuck her tongue out right back.

Mary Margaret Blanchard had been Emma Swan’s first friend when she’d moved to Storybrooke. Emma had been looking for a change of pace, and a place to settle down, and Mary Margaret had been looking for a friend. She’d offered to let Emma crash in her spare room until she found a place of her own, and they’d been practically inseparable ever since, even after Emma moved into her own apartment a few blocks away.

“We’re still going out tonight, right? Tradition?” Mary Margaret bit her lip, as though Emma could deny her anything when she’d been the one to take Emma in all those years ago.

“Of course. Drinks to celebrate another year of spending Christmas alone.” Emma winced at her own words – when had she become such a Scrooge?

“Alone together,” Mary Margaret corrected her.

The tradition had started on Emma’s first Christmas in Storybrooke. She’d only moved out of Mary Margaret’s apartment midway through November, and they were both already missing the companionship, despite needing their own space. Mary Margaret was decorating her classroom for the holidays, and asked Emma to come help. Eager to spend time with her friend, Emma agreed, only to regret it the moment she walked in to find boxes upon boxes of red and green, silver and gold, bows and ribbons and garland and stars. It seemed like it would never end, but when it finally did, Mary Margaret offered to buy the first round of drinks as a thank you.

As Mary Margaret began teaching older grades, her decoration collection thinned out, and they’d formed some sort of a system, so it took less than half the time now than it had five years ago. Still, Mary Margaret always bought the first round after Emma helped her decorate.

It was Emma’s first and only Christmas tradition, and she would never dream of changing it.

Several hours later, after only stapling her jacket to the bulletin board once and a mere three paper cuts – a record low – they found two seats at the Jolly Roger. They chose a table over the bar-top, hoping to mostly keep to themselves.

Their normal haunt, the Rabbit Hole, had been taken over by Robert Gold’s law office, holding their Christmas party. So they’d had to relocate. Mary Margaret was miffed, as she felt like this threw off their tradition, but Emma was determined to make the best of it.

“Two shots of tequila, please!” She called to any bartender who would listen.

A blonde man with broad shoulders turned around from where he was stocking one of the beer fridges. He had an easy, kind smile, and Emma hoped he was as nice as he looked – she preferred a bartender to be friendly than to slam down her drink and walk away with her money.

The bartender walked over to her and leaned in close.

“Is one of those for Mary Margaret Blanchard? I um…I saw you walk in together.”

Emma gave him a closer look. His eyes looked genuine, he was clean shaven and well dressed: a button down and well-fitting jeans. No wedding ring, nor a tan line from one.

“Yep, she’s my best friend,” she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, letting him know that ‘best friend’ was also code for ‘we protect each other’.

“These are on the house.” There was the easy smile again, and he handed over two shots, and a small tray with a salt shaker and two limes. “Merry early Christmas.”

“Um…thanks.”

“Would you…tell her I said hello? She probably doesn’t remember me, but my name is David. We met a few weeks ago at the pharmacy.”

Hmm. Mary Margaret hadn’t mentioned meeting a good-looking bartender with pretty eyes at the pharmacy, but if he was paying for their shots, Emma wasn’t going to argue.

She got back to the table, delivering the goods, and watched her friend, who clearly had not looked towards the bar yet.

“David says hello. These are from him.”

At the name David, Mary Margaret’s eyes went wide and her pale face turned bright red.

“David? Where is he?” She still didn’t turn around.

“He’s behind the bar. I guess he’s a bartender. He saw us walk in together and when I ordered these, he said they were on the house. Seemed into you,” Emma still hadn’t taken her seat, finding it easier to stare down her friend and force answers out of her if she were standing just a bit taller.

“He’s really cute, right?”

“Oh my God.”

“I was like, three dollars short at the pharmacy last week, and he was behind me in line and he paid what I owed. It was really sweet. That’s all that happened. No number exchange or anything. But he’s…really good looking. I keep hoping I’ll run into him, but I know nothing about him, so I didn’t know where to look.”

“Looks like a change in tradition wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?” Emma finally sat.

“Is he looking over here?”

“We are _not_ doing that. We are not those friends who go to the bar to talk about men. That’s not the tradition.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Mary Margaret straightened up in her chair. “Time for shots.”

Three rounds later, Emma walked back to the bar, just a bit more swagger in her step than before.

“My friend wants your number, can you please go talk to her?” She said to David’s back. He turned around, slightly less confident and maybe a little nervous. “She won’t stop talking about you and I’m tired of hearing about it so please just go give her your number so we can all move on with our lives.”

David didn’t hesitate, but practically ran out from behind the bar and approached the table, motioning towards the seat Emma had previously occupied. Emma watched Mary Margaret hesitate, but then nod.

“I need another shot,” she mumbled to no one in particular.

“More tequila, or are we switching it up?”

She looked towards the voice and found a dark-haired man she’d seen serving drinks at the opposite end of the bar earlier in the evening.

“Tequila. My friend just got all Hallmark Movie Christmas Romance on me.”

“Not a romantic then? Or just not into Christmas?” He asked as he poured the tequila into two shot glasses.

“Both. I don’t know when I started to hate Christmas so much,” she admitted. “I tried to tell Mary Margaret that I don’t, but maybe I do. Maybe I’m just a scrooge.” She downed her shot of tequila, reaching for the second.

“Uh, one of those was for me, but very well,” he chuckled, one eyebrow raised.

“Shit, sorry. I just thought…I didn’t know you were allowed to drink on the job.”

“Well, I own the bar, I make the rules.”

“You own this place?”

“Well, co-own, with your friend’s new boyfriend over there,” he gestured vaguely towards the table where Mary Margaret and David were now sitting next to each other instead of across from one another. That explained why he was able to just walk out from behind the bar in the middle of a shift at least.

“I’ve never been here before,” Emma admitted as he poured another pair of shots, keeping one in his hand this time.

“Well, I hope you’ll come back,” he winked as they brought their shot glasses together for luck.

David returned to the bar a moment later, and the mysterious co-owner was pulled away before she could ask his name.

Three days later, Emma and Mary Margaret sat across from each other at a booth at Granny’s Diner, the latter recounting her date with David Nolan from the night before.

“It just…felt really right, you know? We just clicked. He’s so kind – you know he volunteers at the animal shelter? And when I said I wish someone could come in and teach the kids about different animals, you know to go along with my bird theme in the spring, he said he’d be happy to do it. And then he hesitated, like he was nervous, and he added, ‘if you want me there, of course.’ It was just so sweet and we’re going out again on Friday and I know it’s really sudden but I _like him_.”

Mary Margaret sucked in a deep breath, looking surprised by how quickly she’d spoken.

“So, you’re happy?” Emma eyed her friend over her mug of hot chocolate.

“Yes.”

“That’s all that matters.”

Mary Margaret grinned, but it slowly morphed into a nervous smile.

“I wanted to ask you something, but I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

Oh no. Emma knew this couldn’t be anything good – anything that made Mary Margaret nervous to ask usually involved big favors or half-formed plans. Emma nodded at her to continue.

“David was hoping we could double date.”

Emma nearly spat out her drink.

“Double date with _who_? Me and my dog, Max and our plot to steal Christmas from Whoville?” Despite Mary Margaret’s best efforts, Emma was still not feeling the Christmas spirit this year.

“Well, we saw you talking to Killian, and David said he hasn’t stopped talking about you since that night.”

“Who’s Killian?”

“David’s business partner at the Jolly Roger!” Mary Margaret tilted her head. “I saw you talking to him that night…did you not get his name?”

Emma blushed a bit and shook her head.

“Okay, so we talked. Now you want me to go _out_ with him? And you and your fabulous Prince Charming? I dunno, M’s.”

“Please, Emma? Consider it your Christmas gift to me.”

“I already bought you a Christmas present.”

“Return it and do this instead.” Mary Margaret hesitated a moment. “No wait, don’t return it. But do this, too. Please? David and Killian are really close, and it would mean a lot to him if Killian were happy, just like it would mean a lot to _me_ if _you_ were happy.”

“Fine. One date.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“Yay! We’re going to Aesop’s Tables at 8 on Friday!”

Emma sighed, defeated.

Aesop’s Tables was decorated in nearly as much garland and ribbon as Mary Margaret’s former classroom. In fact, Emma was fairly certain she recognized some of the decorations from that first year she’d helped hang everything.

The Christmas tree in the corner and the fairy lights around the bar did nothing to help her feel Christmas-y. If anything, it all only made her just a bit sadder that she’d somehow become such a Scrooge.

What _did_ cheer her up was seeing a charming, good-looking man waiting for her next to David Nolan. She stopped walking to take him in. Killian had looked good behind the bar of the Jolly Roger – all black clothing somehow making the blue of his eyes look brighter, a towel tucked into his back pocket and a bottle opener hanging from his hip. Emma liked a hard-working man, and if this Killian person could run a bar by actually _working the bar_ instead of just sitting in an office all day, that was something she could get behind.

Today, though, he looked like a man who’d put effort into his outfit. A blue button down, leather jacket, and extremely well-fitting jeans adorned what looked like a fit physique. He wasn’t broad like David, but he looked strong all the same.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Mary Margaret misread Emma’s pause as apprehension, and gently grabbed Emma’s arm to drag her the rest of the way to the table.

“Ladies, lovely to see you again,” if Emma didn’t know any better, she’d think Killian was nervous. He was worrying his lip, and his confident smirk from the other night was nowhere to be found.

“You, too. Surprised you’re letting yourselves be seen at another bar. Isn’t that like, bad for business?” Emma teased.

“Can’t very well host a date at the place we own – we’d be interrupted every thirty seconds by some mishap or another,” Killian raised an eyebrow, daring Emma to challenge him.

“Hmm. Seems like maybe you just know where the best bar in town is,” Emma bit her lip, hoping the tone in her voice was enough to tell him she was joking and not insulting him. He barked out a loud laugh and she knew she’d hit her mark.

“You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Mary Margaret and David were watching their interaction like a tennis match, identical grins on their faces.

“So, Emma,” Killian began, “shall we go grab the first round, since David and Mary Margaret were so kind as to invite us out this evening?”

For a moment, Emma wondered how Killian had learned her name. But then she remembered Mary Margaret mentioning that he ‘hadn’t stopped talking about her’. She’d assumed it was an exaggeration, but he must have at least asked about her if nothing else. David must have told him her name.

“Sure, let’s go.”

They stood at the bar, patiently waiting for a bartender to look their way. It was a Friday and the restaurant was full, forcing them practically on top of each other, his left arm against her right. Suddenly, a wave of movement from her other side caused her to fall completely against him.

“Hey! Watch it over there,” Killian yelled to no one in particular, taking the opportunity to move his left arm around her waist to steady her. “You alright, love?”

“Yeah. Thanks for um…catching me. Or whatever.”

“Of course.”

Emma looked up at him, and there were colors across his face from the lights around the bar, and for the first time in ages, she found herself thinking about Christmas magic.

By the end of the night, Emma was sufficiently charmed by Killian Jones, co-owner of the Jolly Roger. They’d spent over an hour standing at the bar, Mary Margaret and David seemingly forgotten. She laughed at his cheesy pickup lines and he listened intently when she told him about the past she’d run away from, the past that had landed her in Storybrooke.

She found herself giving him her phone number before she could think better of it.

“Still feeling all anti-Christmas?” He asked her as the four of them waited for the bus to take them back to Main Street, to all of their respective homes.

“I’m not anti-Christmas,” Emma nearly shouted. “I’m just not…pro-Christmas, either.”

Killian hummed in response as the bus pulled up. They sat in companionable silence until each of them exited the bus, one by one, and they headed in their separate directions.

Monday was Christmas Eve. There was no snow, and Emma was avoiding the radio at all costs, so there was no Christmas music. She grabbed a blanket and her mug of hot chocolate, and prepared herself for a cozy Monday of anything but Christmas movies. She flipped through the channels to no avail, grumbling as she switched over to Netflix, hoping she’d have a better selection there.

She was about to start re-watching one of her old favorites, when there was a knock on the door. She peeked through the peephole, but saw nothing, so she opened the door slowly. On the ground, on top of her welcome mat – a black rectangle with the words ‘wipe your feet’ inscribed in white lettering – was a gift. It was small, and carefully wrapped, with an oversized gold bow on the top.

Emma glanced up and down the hallway, but saw nothing, so she grabbed the gift quickly and retreated back into her apartment.

There was no card, so she carefully peeled back the layers of gift wrap, revealing a plain white box. She removed the lid and found a beautiful, old compass inside. She opened it, but it appeared to be broken. The needle pointed back towards her front door, but she knew that was east. She tried to turn, but the needle didn’t move at all within the compass, always pointing ahead of her, no matter which direction she faced.

Huh.

There was no note inside, either, but she had a feeling that only a man with a bar named after a pirate ship would leave a compass as a gift.

“Your compass is broken,” she said as she entered the Jolly Roger. The sign said they were closed, but Killian had mentioned having to go in to decorate for the employee holiday party, to be held the day after Christmas.

“And we’re closed,” Killian grinned at her. “Didn’t seem to stop you from coming in. Why should a broken compass stop you?”

“I’m just…confused,” Emma admitted.

Killian carefully finished pinning up the photo he was attaching to the wall – some bartender dressed as a pirate for Halloween – and stepped towards her.

“What would you need a compass for?” He asked her seriously.

“If I were lost, I guess.”

“And are you lost?”

Emma thought about it. She’d felt lost when she’d arrived in Storybrooke, all those years ago, until she’d met Mary Margaret. She’d felt as though she’d lost her Christmas spirit, until she’d looked at Killian’s face under the Christmas lights at the bar, reigniting just the tiniest bit of hope. And even then, she’d felt a bit lost until she’d found a gift from a stranger outside her front door.

“I suppose I’m not anymore. So then why a compass at all?”

Killian scratched behind his ear.

“I used that compass when I chose to come to Storybrooke. I bought it from some pawn shop a few towns over and I let it tell me where to go. It wasn’t until after I’d arrived that I realized it was broken, and I’d been the one choosing my path the whole time.”

“Sounds like you put a lot of thought into a gift for a girl you just met.”

“It’s Christmas. Seemed like maybe you needed someone to think of you, and I was more than happy to be the one to do it.”

Emma smiled at him, a bit surprised by the tight feeling in her chest.

“Do you need any help decorating?” she found herself asking.

Killian looked surprised for a moment, but finally nodded.

“I’m hanging pictures of the different events we’ve had throughout the year, just sort of a look back at 2017 if you will. You can help me choose, if you’d like.”

They sat on the floor, surrounded by photographs of people Emma didn’t know, but whose stories Killian gladly shared.

“That’s Ariel. She’s our waitress on busy nights. Sweet as pie, but tough as nails. Best worker I’ve hired to date.”

“I bet I’d like her.”

“You should meet her. At the party. You should come. If you want to.” Killian looked nervous, as though he wasn’t sure if he was asking too much of her, too soon. As though he hadn’t left her an incredibly meaningful gift for Christmas only two days after their first date.

“Okay,” Emma found herself saying.

And neither one of them would be able to recount it properly later, but somehow one of them leaned in and then the other met them halfway, and they were kissing on the floor of Killian’s bar, surrounded by photographs of people in costumes and people laughing and people dancing. And David walked through the door and found them there, and they weren’t even a little bit embarrassed.

And Emma Swan hadn’t been so happy about Christmas in a very long time.


	7. Day Seven: 12/20/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, if A&E can break all sorts of rules and laws when it comes to adoption, then so the hell can I. Use your imaginations on this one, if you will.
> 
> The Challenge:  
> • Dec 20: Christmas Wish

“I wish that I didn’t have to be alone on Christmas,” Emma shut her eyes tightly, wishing on the shooting star that had passed by her bedroom window. After a moment, she opened them, taking a deep breath.

Emma Swan was what her social worker called precocious. She knew that was code for “difficult”. She was smart for her age – ten and three-quarters – and it often got her into trouble with her foster families and the people who ran the group homes she stayed in.

She was never in one place for long.

But no matter what, whether she was with a family or in a group home with what felt like thousands of other little girls, she always found herself alone on Christmas. No gifts, no stocking, no chocolate chip cookies. And Emma wanted, just this once, to spend this Christmas with another person who maybe cared about her a little tiny bit.

It didn’t bode well for her wish that a foster family had just sent her back a week ago, and now there were only three days left until that fateful holiday. Emma had barely even unpacked her things, in hopes that she’d be somewhere warm with a family who sang cheesy Christmas carols and had traditions that she could be a part of. She knew, really, that three days wasn’t enough time, but she wished and wished and wished anyway.

She fell asleep early that night, clutching her blanket for good luck, and still wishing on shooting stars she couldn’t see.

She woke up in the middle of the night to find the girls in her room going through her bags.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

She didn’t have much – mostly just hand-me-down clothes from former foster siblings, and a few things she’d kept over the years. She’d made it a habit to take something that reminded her of every town she called home, even for only a moment – a keychain here, a bottle opener there. She didn’t do anything with them, but she liked to remember all the places she’d been. Because whenever things got tough, she could look at her collection and see how much she’d already been through.

She was beginning to see why they called her precocious.

“What do you need a magnet for? You don’t have a fridge,” a particularly nasty girl named Fiona sneered as she picked up a magnet with Boston written in bright orange letters.

“It’s a keepsake,” Emma whispered.

“You don’t get to keep things here.” Fiona wrinkled her nose. “Sleep tight, Emma.” She sauntered off, her friends following close behind.

Before she could think better of it, Emma quietly re-packed all of the things they’d thrown about in their search. She refolded clothes and tucked them gingerly away. Then she grabbed her bag and her blanket and made her way to the back door. It had a broken latch, and the older girls sometimes snuck out of it to smoke. She pushed it open gently, making sure the coast was clear, and then she was gone.

She was cold, but she made her way to the center of town, trying her best to remember the route her social worker had taken. She’d heard there was a place near the park where a lot of orphans spent their nights when the system became too much for them. She was peering down an alley, not looking where she was going, when she collided with a tall, firm body. Hard. And down she went.

“Shit, sweetheart, are you okay? Did I hurt you? I didn’t see you there.”

A man with curly brown hair and eyes like the sea was kneeling in front of her, not touching her for fear he’d hurt her.

“’M okay,” she mumbled.

“What are you doing out so late? You can’t be more than ten. Do you need me to take you home?” He sounded worried, but he didn’t even know her.

“I don’t have a home,” Emma said quickly. “And I’m ten and three-quarters.”

The man nodded in understanding, then offered her his hand to help her up.

“Well we can’t have a little girl aged ten and three-quarters running around town at midnight by herself. There must be someone we can call?”

Emma shook her head, trying not to cry – there was no one she could call, and she couldn’t go back to that horrible group home _again_. Not after Fiona had taken her stuff.

“I’ve got a brother around your age. I know um…,” the man looked nervous. “I know it’s not generally advisable to go home with strangers, but you really shouldn’t be out here at night. Would you like to come back to mine? I’ve got an air mattress tucked away somewhere we can inflate for you.”

Emma stared at the man for a moment, trying to detect any danger or malice, but there was none. His eyes were kind and his smile was honest. She nodded her head.

“Lovely, it’s just a block this way.”

They walked together in silence until the man turned up the pathway towards a small house on the corner. The lights were all off besides one all the way off to the right, and the man grumbled a bit when he noticed it. As soon as his keys were in the lock, the light flicked off suddenly.

“Killian, I know you’re up. No use pretending. We’ve got a visitor.”

Footsteps came towards them from down the hall.

“Liam, I already know Santa isn’t real, so there’s no—oh. Hello.” Killian appeared to be just a year or so older than Emma. He was taller, but not by much, and his blue eyes matched his brother’s.

Liam, he’d said.

“Hi,” Emma said quietly, raising her hand in greeting. “I’m um…Emma.”

“Emma, this is Killian, my brother. He’s supposed to be asleep, but apparently twelve-year-old boys are no better than ten-year-old girls when it comes to sleeping habits.”

Killian blushed a bit at his brother’s words, but his eyes still hadn’t left Emma’s.

“Who are you?” Killian finally looked at his brother. “Who is she?”

“Uh, well…” Liam was at a loss, clearly unsure how to answer.

“I’m an orphan and I ran away from my stupid group home because the girls were stealing my stuff and then your brother found me and now I’m here,” Emma was blinking back tears – she probably looked so pathetic to these boys, who probably knew nothing of loss or sadness or loneliness.

Liam eyed Killian carefully, and Killian nodded the same way Liam had when Emma had told him she didn’t have a home.

“You’ll stay with us then,” Killian declared.

“Killian, it’s not that simple.”

“Then make it that simple, brother. We have this whole house to ourselves, with a spare room just waiting for someone to fill it.” Killian was nearly begging.

“I don’t…um…I don’t want to impose. I just…,” Emma was startled by the intensity of Killian’s voice, of how much he seemed to understand of her situation.

“You’ll at least stay through Christmas, Emma. We’ll figure everything else out after. I’m sure you’ve got a social worker who will be worried sick when the home you’re staying in finds you’ve gone missing, but we can deal with that in the morning. For now, Killian will you please find the air mattress for Emma?” Liam took charge, firm but with nothing but kindness in his voice.

“Nonsense, Liam, I’ll take the air mattress, or I’ll bunk with you for the night at least. Emma, you can take my bed.”

“You don’t have to--,”

“I insist,” Killian took Emma’s bag from her arm and led her down the hall through an open door. He flicked the light on and Emma stared open-mouthed. On every surface were ships in bottles, Lego ships, models of ships. He had maps on his walls of places real and imaginary. His room was beautiful. He noticed her staring and blushed again, apologizing for the mess.

“Don’t apologize. Your room is really cool. I’ve never…had a room of my own,” Emma stared at the ground.

“Well um, you can pretend this is your room for tonight, if you want.”

“Thanks, Killian. You and your brother are really nice. You don’t have to be so nice.”

“Sure we do. Everyone should be nice to people who deserve it,” Killian replied seriously. Emma smiled at him. “Anyway, Liam and I will be just down the hall,” he pointed at one of the doors. “If you need anything, just yell, or come knock, or whatever.”

“Thank you, Killian.”

He nodded and closed the door, leaving her alone.

Emma fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She awoke to the smell of melting chocolate. She crept down the hall, listening to Killian and Liam talk in the kitchen.

“When mother died and father left, if I hadn’t had you, I could have ended up just like her.”

“I know that, Killian.”

“I’m just saying. We’ve got to…we’ve got to be able to help her somehow.”

“I don’t think bringing a kid home is as easy as saying ‘I want to help’, unfortunately. Much as I’d like to.”

“Can’t you at least ask?”

“I’ll get her social worker’s phone number when she wakes up, see what they want to do about it.”

“I want to help her, Liam.”

“As do I, little brother.”

Emma purposely made some noise coming around the corner, so they’d know she was coming, but they wouldn’t think she’d been there the whole time. Killian’s face brightened when he saw her.

“Good morning, Emma. Did you sleep well?”

Emma nodded.

“Your bed is really comfy. You can have it back tonight, if you want.”

“No, it’s yours for as long as you need it. I think I will blow up the air mattress tonight though,” Killian lowered his voice to a whisper, “Liam snores.”

“I do not!”

Emma laughed, wishing, not for the first time, that she had siblings to bicker with like this. Someone who would have been there through all of the tough times and supported her during the good ones.

“Do you two want chocolate chip pancakes or not?” Liam eyed them both with a stern look, but he broke out in a smile.

“Yes, please!” Killian and Emma found themselves screaming in unison.

After they ate, Emma began clearing the plates.

“Emma, what are you doing?”

“Cleaning up,” her eyes went wide. Had she done something wrong?

“No need, little love, I’ll take care of that. You go play with Killian.”

Killian led her back to his room, where he grabbed a deck of cards.

“Do you know how to play Spit?”

He spent the rest of the morning teaching her how to play all sorts of card games, and she wished she could stay there forever and learn more and more from him, but then Liam interrupted them for lunch and said they should probably call her social worker.

She recited the number she knew by heart, and Liam plugged it into his cell phone and then handed it to her while it rang.

“Hello!?” Regina sounded frantic, rushed.

“Hi, Regina.”

“Emma? Where the hell are you? I showed up at your group home this morning and you were gone, they didn’t even notice, those self-involved—”

“I’m at a house. A really nice man named Liam and his little brother Killian gave me a place to sleep last night. They’re really nice, Regina.”

Regina let out a shaky breath.

“Can I talk to the nice man, Emma?”

Emma handed the phone to Liam, and she could hear Regina yelling before the phone was even up to his ear. She couldn’t make out the words, but Liam winced enough for her to know it was bad. They’d never let her stay here now.

“Regina, is it? Look, I know how this looks, but I found Emma on the _street_ and she was cold and terrified. I only gave her a place to sleep and some chocolate chip pancakes to eat. My brother’s around her age, they’ve been playing all morning.” He paused while Regina talked, at a much lower volume now. “Jones. Yes. Yes. No. I’m not sure. Okay.” He rattled off a street address, rolling his eyes as he did so. He hung up the phone and then looked at Emma. “She’ll be here in thirty minutes.”

“Is she taking me back? I can’t go back there, Liam, it was awful.”

“I’m going to do everything I can, Emma, but I’m not sure how much that is.”

The fun of the card games and chocolate chip pancakes wore off quickly, and they ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in silence, Emma staring at the star on top of the tiny Christmas tree in the living room, wishing once again that she could please, please, please not be alone on Christmas.

A firm knock on the door signaled Regina’s arrival. Liam welcomed her in, and Regina looked around the living room. She didn’t look entirely _dis_ pleased, which was a start, at least. Liam took her on a tour of the house, saving the spare room for last. Emma followed close behind, eager to see the only room she hadn’t been shown.

It was completely bare, but still clean. The closet doors were open, full of summer clothes in a variety of sizes.

“You’d need furniture,” Regina said simply.

Liam, Killian, and Emma all looked at her in confusion. She rolled her eyes.

“If you plan to keep a little girl in this house, you’ll need a place for her to sleep. And a dresser for her clothes, since this closet is full. It’ll also need a paint job.”

“You’re letting me stay?” Emma whispered.

“There’ll be a lot of paperwork involved. But I’ve been on your case a long time, Emma, and I’ve never seen anyone look at you the way these two boys do. They obviously care for you already, much like I do.” She turned to Liam. “I did my research on you before I came here, Mr. Jones. I know you’ve been raising Killian since he was Emma’s age, and it seems that his grades and attendance have improved since you became his primary caretaker. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but if you’d like to foster Miss Swan, I think we can make it happen.”

****

On Christmas morning, Emma woke up in Killian’s bed once more. There was no melting chocolate in the air, but she was excited anyway. Her first Christmas in a home where someone cared about her! There were voices coming from an unfamiliar direction – Killian and Liam weren’t in the kitchen, or in Liam’s room.

She crept out into the hallway and was surprised to hear noise coming, instead, from the spare room. What could they possibly be doing in there. She was about to knock when the door opened in front of her.

“Emma!” Killian looked surprised. “You weren’t supposed to wake up yet. It’s not ready.” He blushed, realizing he’d revealed something he wasn’t supposed to.

“What’s not?”

“Your room,” he whispered. He opened the door, revealing Liam on the ground, sweating, attempting to assemble a bed.

“You’ve brought her in? It’s not _ready_ , Killian.”

“She was in the hall, about to knock. Not my fault you’re so loud.”

“This bed is ridiculous. It’s causing me far too much stress for Christmas morning. Lucky Regina was able to find something, but I do wish she’d found something with instructions in English.” He turned to Emma. “I’d hoped to have it ready when you woke up, but I suppose the surprise is ruined. Merry Christmas, little love.”

Emma didn’t care that he was sweaty and gross, or that she was still in her pajamas and hadn’t even brushed her teeth. She ran over to Liam and hugged him so hard he nearly fell over.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Killian cleared his throat behind her. She turned to find Killian still blushing, scratching behind his ear.

She ran and hugged him, too, thanking him at least a hundred times.

That night, after Liam and Killian had exchanged gifts, and they’d all help put Emma’s clothes away in her new dresser, Killian and Emma sat together in her new bed.

“I guess you get your bed back, finally.”

“The air mattress wasn’t so bad, but I’ll be glad to be surrounded by my ships again.”

“They’re very nice. I like your room.”

“Would you like one?” Killian asked her.

“One of your ships?” Emma’s mouth fell open. Killian nodded, and before she could answer, he left the room. He returned with a beautiful model of a pirate ship, _Jewel of the Realm_ inscribed along the side in childish scrawl.

“This is the first one I built myself.” Killian placed the ship on Emma’s dresser.

“You don’t have to--,”

“I know. I want you to have it,” he smiled at her.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course!” He sat besides her on the bed again, eager to hear whatever secret she was about to share.

“The night I ran away, I saw a shooting star. And I wished on it that I wouldn’t be alone on Christmas. And then I left and Liam found me and now I’m here.”

Killian grinned.

“Sounds like magic to me.”

**

TEN YEARS LATER

“Emma, you do _not_ need to bring that thing every time we visit Liam.”

“I refuse to sleep in your old room unless there’s at least one ship in it. It’s just not your room if there are no ships.” She was carrying her own bag and the ship Killian had given her on her first Christmas in the Jones household.

“There are smaller ones we can bring,” he pleaded. The pirate ship was ridiculous. It was big and it was fragile, and Liam constantly teased him for the childish writing on the side.

“But this is the one you gave me,” Emma looked up at him. “It’s the one that means the most.”

He could deny her nothing. He kissed her softly and took the ship from her hands.

“Fine. But I’m blaming you if it falls apart because we take it back and forth so much.”

“Killian, I’d never let it break. It’s the first gift you ever gave me.” Her voice had turned serious, and he knew she meant every word.

“Well, it’s far from the last.” He kissed her again as they reached the door. It opened before they could knock.

“Little brother!” Liam yelled.

“Younger,” Killian grumbled.

“Little love,” Liam kissed Emma’s cheek. She grinned and returned the kiss. “You brought the ship again?”

“Had to,” Killian rolled his eyes.

They settled in for dinner, catching up on all the things that had happened since Emma and Killian had returned for Thanksgiving a month prior. Emma glanced at the tiny Christmas tree in the living room again, wishing and hoping that Killian would be happy with the gift she’d gotten him.

They sat in their usual places in the living room, a small pile of gifts in front of each of them. Liam went first, opening a case of beer Killian had brought back from Ireland when he and Emma had visited.

Killian went next, eyeing Emma carefully when he picked up the flat gift addressed to him in her handwriting.

“What’s this, then?” he asked.

“Open it and find out.” Her heart was beating too fast, in this living room where she’d spent seven solid Christmases. The living room where she and Killian had fought when he’d left for college, where she’d confessed she had feelings for him, where he’d kissed her the first time. It seemed the right place to share any type of news.

Killian opened the packet carefully, unsure and still looking at Emma with suspicion in his eyes. The gift wrap revealed a folder, which he opened slowly.

“Emma, what is this?” He read from the top down, seeing doctors’ signatures and names of tests he didn’t recognize, until finally, he came across the answer. “You’re pregnant?” He looked up at her, and this was the moment she’d been excited for and afraid of. He could be ecstatic or angry, he could want to keep it or not. They hadn’t talked about having kids so soon, so young. He’d only just graduated college.

“Are you mad?”

“How long have you known?”

“Only a week.”

“You’ve spent a week thinking I could possibly be mad about this?” He kissed her, and they were both crying, and Liam was crying but pretending not to be. And it was a whole mess, but it was the best mess Emma Swan had ever found herself in. “You’d better open your gift from me next.”

She looked at her small pile, but everything was from Liam or had been mailed from Regina. There were no boxes signed with Killian’s name.

“Ah, right. I didn’t wrap it. It’s in the ship.” Killian gestured to where he’d put the _Jewel of the Realm_ over on the dining table.

“You didn’t even want to bring the ship!” Emma swatted his arm.

“I knew you’d insist,” he grinned at her. “Go on, then.”

Emma stood and walked towards the table, trying to see where her gift was.

“Ah, I forgot I never told you about this.” Killian appeared beside her. He lifted the ship and pushed one of the pieces on the bottom, revealing a hidden compartment. “I used to hide my money in there, when Dad was around. Now, it’s just hiding…this.”

Emma should have been more surprised to see a ring in his hand. But _of course_ he was proposing on Christmas, and of course it was in the home they’d grown up in together. Because he felt the same connection to the house that she did, despite the fact that they’d moved into an apartment near his college two years prior.

“Emma, I fell in love with you in this house. I think I loved you the moment Liam brought you home, even if it took me a while to realize it. I’ve wanted to ask you this question for ages, but being home for Christmas just felt like the right time. I hope I’m right. Emma, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you!”

And they were crying more, and Liam was hugging them, and if you’d told Emma Swan at age ten and three-quarters that she’d find a home and fall in love and end up engaged and pregnant on Christmas, she would have looked at you like you were telling her some fairy tale she didn’t dare to believe in. And yet, here she was. Loved and in love, and all on Christmas, to boot.


	8. Day Eight: 12/21/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Challenge:  
> • Dec 21: Matchmaker
> 
> I wasn't feeling particularly inspired by the classic Matchmaker trope, especially since my MC fic is literally titled "Matchmaker" (I'm matched out, y'all), so I went with a bit of a twist instead. Enjoy!!!

Emma couldn’t believe she’d been roped into such a dumb idea as a blind dating game show. She should never have bet with Mary Margaret, especially on football. The woman barely understood what was going on in the game, but her instincts were out of this world.

“The Eagles are gonna kill them,” she’d claimed. “They’ll beat the Cowboys by at least three touchdowns.”

Emma had laughed.

“The birds are good this year, M’s, but the Cowboys/Eagles rivalry is no joke. I think their defense can put up a better fight than _that_.”

“Do you wanna bet money on it?” Mary Margaret had asked innocently, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t bet money. Too boring.”

“Then what shall we bet?” And Emma just _knew_ Mary Margaret had some dastardly plan ready to go, that she’d planned this from the moment Emma had invited her and David over to watch Sunday football.

But she always was a sucker for a good bet.

“If I win, and the Eagles win by anything less than 21 points, or if they lose entirely, then you are never in your life allowed to try and set me up on a blind date ever again.” Emma was excited. Her chances were good – not great, but good enough to at least try to get the ever-meddling, well-meaning Mary Margaret to back off of her romantic life. Or lack thereof.

“Deal. But if they win by more than 21 points, you have to audition for that show I’ve been telling you about,” Mary Margaret’s eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“That new dating show? No way!”

“I think that’s a fair trade-off, actually. If I can’t help you anymore if you win, then you should have to do something to help _yourself_ if I win.”

“David, tell your wife that I’m not some prize to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.”

“I’m not listening. I’m watching the game. Your bets are your business.” Classic David Nolan, never any help when Emma needed him.

Okay, that was an obvious lie, but he really wasn’t being any help right _now_.

“Fine, I’ll bet. But only because I know there’s no way the Eagles are gonna win by three entire touchdowns.”

37-9, Eagles. Final score.

So, a month later, a mere week before Christmas, Emma found herself in a skin-tight hot pink dress – so not her color – on a soundstage lit by insanely hot lights, with people powdering her face left and right so she wouldn’t sweat on camera. There were cheesy Christmas decorations everywhere, wreaths and fairy lights and ribbons. A Christmas tree sat in the corner of the stage with fake gifts underneath.

Great.

The premise of the game was simple. She would ask three random guys a bunch of questions, but she wouldn’t be able to see their faces. Then, at the end, based on their answers, she’d have to pick one to go on a date with.

Exactly the kind of set-up Emma hated more than anything, and Mary Margaret damn well knew it.

But she’d lost the bet, fair and square, so she had to make the best of it.

The host of the show, a nervous looking redhead with glasses, made his way over to her.

“Emma? I’m Archie, I’ll be your host this afternoon. I hope you’re excited – we’ve got some really interesting bachelors here today.”

Excited wasn’t the word, but Archie didn’t need to know that Emma was here against her will.

“I can’t wait to get started,” Emma smiled in what she hoped was good enough to look genuine. Archie seemed pleased, so she supposed it was good enough.

Twenty minutes later, Emma was situated in a comfortable chair with a huge wall next to her. She had a microphone in her hand and a stack of cards in her lap. The questions were all pre-written, and then she’d get to make up her own at the end if she wanted.

She did not want.

Emma tried to look vaguely interested as the lights got brighter and the red lights on the cameras went on, while Archie explained the rules of the game to what was supposedly a captive audience.

“Welcome to The New Dating Game!” Archie began. “The rules of the game are simple. Our bachelorette here,” he motioned towards Emma, “will ask questions of three complete strangers. She will not be able to see the men she’s speaking to, and they will not be able to see her. After Emma has asked as many questions as she so desires, she’ll choose one of the men to go on a date with. And, since this is a twist on the classic game show from many years ago, we of course have a few tricks up our sleeves!”

Emma didn’t know about any tricks. She worked hard to keep her smile on, not letting anyone know she hadn’t read the contract she’d signed, which probably explained each of the tricks in full detail.

“First, Emma is allowed to phone a friend! The gentlemen on the other side will be given noise-proof headphones so that Emma can call a friend and consult her, or him! Next, there will be a competition after the first round. Emma will be given three categories, and her bachelors will have to complete a challenge. Emma, of course, will decide the winner. The final ‘twist’, if you will, will be revealed later on in the game. Let’s get ready to play!”

The camera panned over to Emma, and she already felt a layer of sweat forming on her brow. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and vowed to ignore the cameras and just…ask questions.

“Hi, I’m Emma Swan, from Storybrooke, Maine. I’m a police detective, I’m 28, and I’ve been single for a while, so I guess I’m just trying to put myself back out there,” she recited the script Mary Margaret had put together for her. She couldn’t very well admit that she was here for a bet.

“Excellent, welcome Emma! And now, onto our bachelors!”

“Um, hi, I’m Graham. I’m 31, and I’m from Boston. I’m a police officer, so it sounds like we’ve already got something in common. I spend my free time camping, and I…I’m excited to be here.”

Graham sounded nervous, but kind. There was a bit of a hesitation at the end, as though he’d wanted to say something but had changed his mind. Emma had to admit that dating a fellow officer would be nice – they’d understand each other in a way that people who weren’t on the force didn’t really comprehend.

“I’m Walsh, I’m 34. I’m from McCreary County, Kentucky. I know that sounds far, but I’m willing to relocate for the right person,” Walsh paused, as though he’d expected a reaction there, but he was met with silence. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m a business owner, and I don’t have a lot of time to meet people, so I thought this would be a cool, new way to try to date again.”

Walsh sounded…awkward. There was something about him Emma inherently didn’t trust, and the audience’s lack of reaction to his intent to _move across the country for a stranger_ was very telling. She’d already crossed out his name mentally, but knew she’d still have to ask him questions.

“I’m Killian,” a third voice began. “I’m 32, from Portland, Maine. I’m a fisherman, which sounds boring, I’m sure, but I assure you, it’s anything but. I’m a bit of an adventurer, and I’m just looking for someone to be my co-pilot in life.”

Emma’s mouth moved from a forced, toothy grin, to a genuine smile. She loved adventure, was always dying for an excuse to leave the small-town life, even for just a moment.

“Excellent, welcome gentleman! Alright, let’s get started with some questions. The first round will be fairly simple, just basic ‘getting to know you’ questions. Emma, are you ready?”

“Yes, Archie.” She picked up her stack of cards. “Walsh, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” She threw him a softball question – almost any answer would be acceptable, really. Emma just wanted to get questioning him out of the way so she could ask the other two some real questions.

“Oz,” he said simply, and she pictured a faceless man crossing his arms over his chest proudly. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Australia, that’s interesting! Why?”

“Oh, I meant like…from the story. _The Wizard of Oz_. You didn’t say it had to be a real place,” another pause for a reaction. More silence. “I loved that book as a kid, I just think it would be really neat to go there and meet the wizard, you know? Don’t you think?”

 _The wizard was a total scumbag and a liar,_ Emma thought to herself. _But sure_.

Even Archie looked a bit puzzled by Walsh’s answer, but the cameras weren’t on him. They were on Emma.

So she laughed and went with it.

“Sure! Um, Graham, same question.”

“I’d go to Ireland,” he answered with no hesitation. “My parents came from Ireland just after they got married, and I always wanted to see the place they grew up.”

The response was normal, and even sentimental, the kind of thing Emma should probably be looking for. But the way Graham talked about his parents, she knew he’d had a happy childhood with them. Would he understand her trauma, her fear of abandonment?

 _Woah, Swan, slow down. It’s only a game_ , she reminded herself. No permanent decisions were coming from this.

“Okay, Killian, are you a morning person or a night owl?”

He laughed a bit, a soothing sound that Emma found herself wanting to hear more of.

“Well, my job forces me to be a morning person, but truthfully, I’m a bit of a night owl. It makes waking up in the mornings very difficult, especially in the winter when I’m chilled to the bone and it’s still dark outside for hours after my alarm goes off. But I love what I do, so I make it work.”

The sincerity in his voice was obvious. He’d taken such a small thing and made it sound so important, and Emma found herself wanting to learn more.

The first round passed quickly, and she tried her best to divvy up the questions equally, but she knew she was paying more attention to Killian than anyone else.

“And that concludes the first round!” Archie exclaimed, looking relieved to have reached the end of Walsh’s diatribe about his best qualities, a question Emma hadn’t anticipated him answering so verbosely.

They took a short break, and the men were led off the stage through a side door. Emma tried to sneak a peek, knowing she shouldn’t, but all she caught was dark hair, the back of a leather jacket, and jeans that fit just right. She didn’t know which one of them it was, but she was hoping it wasn’t Walsh, because the man looked _good_.

She headed over to the catering table, grabbing a few cookies before the makeup team came to slap more powder on her face and the hair team came to tease her curls and the wardrobe team came to adjust her dress.

She felt like a museum exhibit, being poked and prodded to be shown off to the masses.

“Let’s get ready for round two! We’ll begin with the competition. Emma, in the envelope I’ve handed you, you’ll find a list of three challenges. You’ll choose one, and your suitors will compete in whichever competition you decide on. You’ll then choose the winner.” Archie turned to face the camera and the audience. “Emma will then be shown a photo of the winner, but only a small piece of him. It could be a hand, or an ear, it could be an entire face, or just a shirt. It’s a surprise!”

Emma _really_ should have read the contract. She plastered on her camera-ready smile again and peeled open the envelope.

“Emma, will you please read the list of challenge options?”

“Um, okay. So first, is poetry – the bachelors will have thirty seconds to compose a poem about me. Next, singing – I’ll choose a song and they’ll each have to sing a verse of it. Finally, open-ended talent – the bachelors have each pre-chosen a talent they’d like to share, should I choose this option.”

Emma thought for a moment.

She thought about what talent Walsh could have possibly brought to the table, and decided that she didn’t want to sit through his magic tricks or whatever else he wanted to show off.

She chose singing.

“And for the song, let’s do ‘Hey There Delilah’. It’s old, but I think most people our age know it.”

Archie nodded his agreement, and they waited a moment for the song to begin. Emma could see a screen out in the audience, above their heads, showing the words to the men.

“ _Hey there Delilah,_  
What’s it like in New York City?  
I’m a thousand miles away,   
But girl tonight you look so pretty,  
Yes you do.  
Times Square can’t shine as bright as you.  
I swear it’s true,”

Emma was pleasantly surprised by Graham’s singing voice. He continued singing and Emma found herself swaying just a little bit.

She was more disappointed than she should have been when Walsh’s turn came.

“ _Hey there, Emma,_  
I know times are getting hard,  
But just believe me, girl,  
Someday I’ll pay the bills with this guitar,”

He was off-beat, as though he’d never heard the song before, and inserting her name was a bold move. If she hadn’t already been so turned off by him, she might have thought it was cute, but instead it just seemed like he was trying too hard. He sang the word _guitar_ with a sneer in his voice, as though he were disgusted by the idea of making money with music.

A real catch, this Walsh.

Finally, his turn was over, and Emma was surprised to hear an extra guitar mixed in with the soundtrack playing throughout the studio. The audience gasped, and Emma knew Killian must have been playing right along with the music.

“ _A thousand miles seems pretty far,_  
But they’ve got planes and trains and cars,  
I’d walk to you if I had no other way.  
Our friends would all make fun of us  
And we’ll just laugh along because we know  
That none of them have felt this way.  
Delilah, I can promise you,   
That by the time that we get through,  
The world will never ever be the same,  
And you’re to blame.”

By the time he finished the song, Emma was finished. She knew, right then, that she’d be picking Killian. She just had to make it through this round and then whatever the bonus round held. She just had to pretend that there was any decision-making left to do for a tiny bit longer.

The Plain White T’s were her guilty pleasure – a band no one listened to anymore, but she’d bought each new song, every album, as it came out. When she was alone in her apartment, she’d blast the whole discography, loving the strong emotions each song brought out in her. That Killian had brought out a guitar, and had known the song already…it touched her somewhere deep in her heart, in a place she hadn’t been sure existed anymore.

Mary Margaret was never going to let her live this down.

The audience cheered, some of them even standing, and Emma imagined a faceless body taking a shy bow before sitting back down. She bet he had a nervous tick – tugging his hair or scratching his ear or something of that kind.

Emma wanted to see his face.

“Alright, Emma, have you decided on a winner?”

“It’s a tough call, Archie,” she could see in his face that he knew as well as she did that it was not, in fact, all that difficult of a choice, “but I have to go with Killian.”

The audience cheered again, and Emma wished more than ever that she could just skip the rest of the show and choose Killian now.

“Excellent, and it seems the audience agrees with you! Here’s your sneak preview of your bachelor.”

Archie handed her an envelope, waiting patiently as she opened it. Emma saw the light on the screen behind her change, and she knew the audience was being shown the same photo she was: an eye.

It was, quite possibly, the bluest eye she’d ever seen, framed by thick black lashes. She could see his eyebrow as well, raised as though he wasn’t sure why the photographer had zoomed in so much on his eyeball. She saw skepticism and sass, qualities she liked in a man, as she possessed them herself.

She’d never been so attracted to an eye before.

“Wow, Killian, you’ve got a really handsome eyeball,” she laughed.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Thank you. I uh…thank you for picking me as the winner.”

Emma looked at Archie quickly.

“Can I ask a question pertaining to the challenge that isn’t from the cards?”

“Sure, Emma, that’s fine.”

“Killian, did I hear you playing guitar while you were singing?”

“Ah, um, yes. That was the talent I’d chosen, and since I knew the song we were singing, and the guitar was right here with me, I thought, why not?”

“It was very good.”

“Thank you,” and again Emma was picturing him with some sort of nervous tick. She needed to know what it was.

It was Archie’s turn to clear his throat – so much for Emma still playing along, acting as though she hadn’t picked her match after one round.

The second round passed much like the first, but Emma began avoiding questioning Walsh as much as possible, without being too obvious. It was clear that he was angry at not being chosen as the winner of the competition, and his answers were all coming out bitter.

“Walsh, what do you value in a relationship?”

“I value honesty and integrity. And I love when it’s _acknowledged_ that I’ve _done something kind_ for someone, even something _small_. I think it’s important to remember that even _small romantic gestures_ are, you know, _still romantic_.”

Was he talking about inserting her name into a song he’d sang two verses of?

Emma looked to Archie for help, but he simply shrugged helplessly. They were just going to have to keep playing the game.

It was during the break before the third and final round that Emma realized she’d never even used her ‘phone a friend’ option. Normally, in real life circumstances not orchestrated by a television game show, she’d call Mary Margaret to complain about whatever moron she’d gone out with. Mostly, they were dates planned by Mary Margaret herself, so Emma was calling to scold her, but even the dates she went on of her own accord usually ended in a phone call.

She could complain about Walsh, she guessed, but she didn’t need to call Mary Margaret to help her choose her winner, which was supposed to be the point of the ‘phone a friend’ option. She’d done that on her own ages ago.

She was _really_ never going to live this down.

“Alright, welcome back, and let’s get started on Round Three!” Archie’s excitement seemed a bit more forced this time, as though he, too, knew Emma had already chosen, and just wanted to get to the end. “But first, our final twist! Between rounds, we polled our audience and asked them who they thought Emma should choose to be her date. If Emma’s choice aligns with our audience’s choice, there’s a special Christmas surprise in it for both of them.”

Oh, God.

She remembered the audience’s reaction to Killian’s singing, to his guitar playing. All of their ‘aww’s at him and Graham, and their silence at Walsh.

She really hoped they were smart enough to know what she’d figured out two rounds ago.

The third round was short, a lightning round where Emma asked a question and the bachelors answered in order: Graham, Walsh, and then Killian, with one-word answers only.

“Why are you on the show today?”

“Love.”

“Se—love.”

“Bet.”

The audience gasped collectively, and there was murmuring as they talked about what that could possibly mean.

Emma paused, despite the clock ticking above the audience, telling her she only had thirty seconds left to finish off any more questions she had.

Killian was here because of a bet?

She shook it off, knowing she’d have to ask him about it later, and moved on. The seconds ticked by slowly, and then finally the buzzer sounded.

“That’s it! Time’s up!” Archie sounded far too relieved, and quickly turned his megawatt smile back on. “Have you made your decision, Emma? There’s still that ‘phone a friend’ option if you--,”

“Killian,” she said firmly.

Archie grinned at her.

“Very well, let’s see what the audience had to say.”

The screen behind her changed again, as did the one above the audience.

7% for Walsh, 26% for Graham, 67% for Killian.

“Looks like you two get our Christmas surprise bonus! First, let’s meet the bachelors you didn’t choose.”

It took all of Emma’s self-control to not tap her foot impatiently and cross her arms over her chest. Instead, she let her arms hang loosely by her sides, forcing her fake, camera-ready smile back on.

Graham came out first. A handsome man with a rugged look to him. Emma definitely found him attractive, but she hadn’t been blown away by him the way she had by Killian. She wished she could give him her number so they could hang out sometime – she could use a friend who worked in the same career as she did, aside from David – but she knew that would be inappropriate, and probably a little weird.

Graham politely shook her hand, and then asked if he could hug her. She nodded, and he wrapped her in a tight embrace. She found herself returning the hug, and wishing once again that they could be friends somehow.

“I have a confession to make,” he whispered. “I’m relieved you didn’t pick me. I’m sort of seeing someone, but we started dating after I auditioned. It’s still new, so I didn’t want to cancel, but I’m just…I’m really glad you didn’t pick me, even though you’re beautiful, and a total catch.”

“She’s a lucky, girl, Graham,” Emma smiled. He nodded at her, and made his exit.

Walsh was next. He was tall, and made up of all angles – skinny and sharp and angry. She wondered if, perhaps, when he smiled, he was more attractive, but she’d never get the chance to find out. He shook her hand roughly, mumbled something about _your loss_ , and then walked away.

Good riddance.

Finally, a leather jacket and well-fitting jeans rounded the corner. Blue eyes stared at her, both eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I didn’t expect you to be so…,” he trailed off.

She looked up at him, pleasantly surprised by the amount of scruff on his face and the artfully messed up style to his hair.

“It’s nice to actually meet you,” Emma said, reaching out her right hand.

“You, as well.” He took her hand in his and, before she knew what he was doing, kissed it. He blushed a bit and scratched behind his ear with his left hand, still holding onto hers with the other.

A nervous tick.

“You mentioned a bet,” Emma said. He looked embarrassed, so she confessed first. “I’m here because I lost a bet, too.”

His eyes widened and his grip on her hand tightened just a bit.

“My friends have been ragging on me for months to put myself out there. The whole thing seemed hokey and fake, but my best friends, Robin and Will, and I were playing Texas Hold ‘Em, and I couldn’t resist when Robin said ‘let’s make this more interesting’. And I can’t resist interesting, but I lost, so here I am.”

“Some friends.”

“Indeed.” He was full-on smiling at her now, her right hand still gripped in his.

“So, are you two ready to hear about the date you’ll be going on?”

Oh, right. This whole thing ended in a date that the show planned out for them. Emma had completely forgotten that there was a point to all of this, that she wasn’t just here to stare into blue eyes and hold onto a stranger’s hand for far longer than necessary.

“Sure, Archie.”

“First, you’ll have private access to the Storybrooke skating rink tomorrow evening. The entire place will be rented out just for the two of you. From there, you’ll head to George’s Taverna for dinner, all expenses paid. Finally, we’ve got vouchers for free three-scoop sundaes at Any Given Sundae.”

“Um, what’s the Christmas surprise?” Killian asked, sounding as nervous as Emma felt.

Archie smiled and pointed up.

Freaking _mistletoe_ above their heads. It figured that a cheesy revival of an old show from the 1960’s would have made mistletoe their Christmas bonus.

Killian looked at her helplessly, as though he wasn’t sure if she’d want to kiss him, and didn’t want to force her. So she did the work for him.

She stood up on her tiptoes and he closed the gap, and there Emma Swan was, kissing a perfect stranger – although, was he really a stranger anymore? She’d learned more about him in the past hour of filming than she’d learned about old boyfriends throughout entire relationships – in front of who knew how many cameras, in front of a live audience.

And she knew Mary Margaret was going to hold this over her head for the rest of her life, but in that moment, she really didn’t care.

 


	9. Day Nine: 12/22/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Challenge:  
> • Dec 22: Military, Emergency Rescuer
> 
> (I went with EMT, so I hope that counts)
> 
> Y'all, I have to confess, this one was hard for me to write. I had this first scene planned out and then the rest of it I just sort of...let happen. I hope you like it.

All he felt was pain.

He couldn’t remember anything – not even his name – but he knew the entire left side of his body was on _fire_.

And then there was blonde hair, a calm voice, and for just a moment, the waves of pain ceased.

“Sir, stay with me. We’re taking you to the hospital. You’ve suffered tremendous amounts of burns, so you’re probably in a lot of pain. But we’re going to take care of you. You’re going to be okay.”

He was being lifted while she spoke, other bodies surrounding him, loud sirens and bright lights. But he shoved it all into the background and watched her face. He watched her mouth move and he watched her eyes focus – first on him, then on the direction he was moving towards, then back to him.

Her eyes were green. They were, on their own, insignificant. But he kept staring at them, using them as an anchor to keep himself in one place. She watched him as he was lifted into the back of an ambulance. She stayed with him, watching him, watching the people around her work, watching him again. The ambulance moved and she didn’t speak anymore, nor did she meet his eyes. She stared out the back window, watching the world behind the speeding vehicle.

What had happened to him?

He kept watching her, willing her to turn around, until whatever they’d given him to ease the pain forced him into a deep sleep.

***

THREE MONTHS LATER

Killian Jones was getting by just fine with only one hand, thank you very much. He could easily balance things in his left arm whilst gripping things with his right hand. It wasn’t a great life, but it could have been worse, as the doctors consistently told him.

Often, people didn’t even notice the missing appendage until they went to hand him something large. He’d reach out to grip with one hand and balance with the opposite arm, and then people would notice and then pretend they didn’t.

They did, however, immediately see his face. The left side of it was scarred, though most of it had healed quite nicely. He’d always have a bit of a ‘melted’ look to his flesh, unless he elected to get cosmetic surgery, which he wouldn’t. Killian didn’t care a lick about what the world thought of him.

Someone had attempted to take his life, and he’d survived. So damn whatever it was the world thought of the scars he’d received along the way.

Robert Gold had a ton of connections – a well-known lawyer with stock in half the businesses in town – but arson and attempted murder were just enough to lock him up for at least a short while. A Christmas miracle that his sentencing – twenty years with no time off for good behavior – had been given out on December 20th.

Killian had made a lot of enemies in his life, but none as powerful as Robert Gold. Gold held a grudge because Killian had wooed his wife, Milah, away from him nearly a decade prior. But then Milah had up and left him, too, so Gold’s anger was a bit misplaced: Milah was simply a runner. It hadn’t been Killian’s fault, not really.

Still, the events of the past couldn’t be changed, and so Killian went through life one-handed and scarred, while Gold went through it in an orange jumpsuit. Or a tan one. Killian wasn’t sure what they wore anymore and he didn’t particularly care.

It was after leaving the courthouse, finally – officially – free of Gold for the next two decades, that Killian stopped at Granny’s for lunch. He didn’t allow himself greasy food very often – messy food was difficult – but it seemed like a good day to treat himself. It was there, sitting at a barstool, that he saw a woman he recognized. But he couldn’t figure out _how_ he knew her.

She had blonde hair running down her back in curls, and she sat alone, shoving two onion rings in her mouth at a time. She wore a red leather jacket, which didn’t seem enough to warm her against the winter chill outside. Killian caught himself watching her, and forced himself to look away, instead taking a seat on the other side of the counter, where he could watch her from the corner of his eye.

“Emma, the onion rings aren’t going anywhere. You don’t have to eat them all in one bite.” A slim brunette waitress was teasing her.

“I’ve got a short break, Rubes. Storybrooke isn’t gonna save itself.”

Her voice was familiar, too, but he couldn’t place that either.

She turned, glancing around the restaurant casually, and he saw her eyes. It all hit him at once.

_We’re going to take care of you. You’re going to be okay._

She was staring at him now. Their eyes had met and neither of them had looked away. Killian wondered if she remembered him, or if she was staring at his disfigured face.

The waitress cleared her throat.

“You two gonna talk to each other or just stare at each other all day?” One corner of her bright red lips raised in a smirk.

The woman – Emma, the waitress had called her – shook her head slightly.

“Sorry, I um…I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

Killian was about to tell her that she did, in fact, recognize him. She’d been there when he’d almost died, had been the one to keep him conscious until the pain medication knocked him out and he’d woken up some indeterminate amount of time later in a hospital bed.

That he’d dreamt of her eyes at least six times since that night.

He was about to tell her all of this, but she glanced at her phone and jumped out of her seat and was gone.

“Don’t be offended. She leaves like that all the time. She’s always running late.”

Killian nodded, then placed his lunch order, still staring at the door she’d gone through.

The following day, he found himself at Granny’s again. He’d never been there two days in a row, even when he’d had two hands with which to clean up whatever greasy mess the food there caused. He tried to time it right, arriving fifteen minutes earlier than he had the day before, thinking he’d have more time to approach her before she ran out the door. But she wasn’t there.

She wasn’t there the following day, either, and he was kept home by a sudden snowstorm the day after that.

Christmas Eve was a long shot, and he knew it, but he had to try.

Somehow, there she was. Blonde curls tied back in a ponytail this time, and there was no food in front of her, which meant she must have just arrived.

“Excuse me, miss?” Killian approached her slowly. Her eyes narrowed and she kept staring straight ahead.

“It’s _Emma_ ,” she corrected him. “‘Miss’ is what my teachers called me when I was in trouble.” She finally looked his way, and the anger in her eyes faded. She stared at him for a moment, and he found himself wondering, again, if she recognized him or if she was simply reacting to his appearance.

“I confess, I heard that waitress use your name the other day, but I thought I should hear it directly from you.” He scratched behind his ear. “I’m Killian…I was wondering if this seat was taken. I’d love to join you, if I may.” Killian gestured to the barstool next to hers. She glanced around at the empty tables, the ten other vacant seats at the counter, but then nodded her approval. Killian let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’m not sure if you recognize me--,”

“I do,” Emma said, and she looked relieved when a basket of onion rings appeared in front of her, the slim waitress with the bright red lips grinning wolfishly when she saw who had joined her friend.

“I wanted to thank you, for that night.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly, again eating her onion rings by the pair.

“Just doing my job,” she waved him off.

“I don’t mean…I don’t just mean for the daring rescue,” he grinned sheepishly, “I was sure I was going to die that night. I don’t remember much,” he massaged the smooth end of his left arm out of habit, “but I remember focusing on you and feeling as though I was going to be okay.”

Her green eyes finally met his blue ones, and he wished he could see inside her head. The look on her face betrayed nothing.

“I’ve gotta go,” she said suddenly, slamming the last three onion rings in her mouth all at once and practically running out the door.

Killian sighed, and the waitress looked over at him with a look he was all too familiar with: pity.

Christmas Day, Killian made his way to the cemetery. It was an annual tradition – he had graves to visit, and several flowers to leave on each.

“Mum, I hope you’re proud of the fact that I haven’t let this whole mess take away who I am. I’m still working – though I’m behind a desk, planning routes and menial tasks instead of heading out onto the water. But I’m still there, I haven’t quit. And I survived it. I think you’d be proud of that, at least.

“Liam, I wish you’d have been in the courtroom the other day! The look on Gold’s face…you would have loved it. I know you never liked him, or Milah for that matter. I hope you were there, somehow, in spirit. That you know I turned out alright in the end.”

He left lilies and lavenders on his mother’s, and gladioli for his brother.

He felt lighter as he walked back to his apartment, as he often did after speaking with his loved ones. He was looking straight ahead as he walked, and completely missed the patch of black ice in the middle of the street when he was crossing.

“Sir, are you okay? Sir, I—you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Familiar green eyes stared down at him, and he smiled despite the pain in his ankle and his rear.

“Hey, beautiful,” he choked out.

She rolled her eyes.

“We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“I’ve gotten your attention, at least.”

Emma knelt down next to him, feeling along his sides for broken bones, ignoring his comments for the time being.

“If you wanted to touch me so badly—ah!” he winced when she reached his ankle.

“That’s what you get,” she raised her eyebrow at him. “I think it’s just twisted, but I can drive you to the hospital if you want to get it checked out.”

“The emergency room is full of lunatics who’ve been stabbed in family arguments, I’m sure. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“I’d say you’re wrong, but I work the late shift tonight and I already know what I’m in for. You’re pretty spot on.”

“Care to keep me company until your shift then?” Killian grinned at her allowing her to help him to his feet. She wrapped an arm around his waist, steadying him as she walked him over to a bright yellow bug.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you can come rest at my apartment until my shift starts. I want to make sure your ankle doesn’t turn into a balloon.”

He sensed that this wasn’t the moment to make an inappropriate comment, much as he wanted to. Several innuendos nearly fell out of his mouth, but he stopped them, instead simply thanking her and climbing into the car.

She fixed him hot chocolate – “is this cinnamon? It’s delicious!” – and put on an old Claymation Christmas movie.

She elevated his foot with a pillow on the coffee table, and he was thrown by how gentle she was being – he was, after all, still a complete stranger. Killian was the one who’d dreamt of her several times over. Not that he knew her any better for it – but he certainly felt as though he did.

“I thought of you a lot, after that night,” Emma said suddenly. She settled in next to him on the couch, leaving an arm’s length between them. “I visited you once, when you were still in the hospital. But you were sleeping.”

He was surprised, and wanted to ask her to her to continue, but he sensed she had to get there on her own.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” her eyes met his and he was having trouble swallowing.

“Thought you were just doing your job,” he smirked, but he kept his voice soft and easy.

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh, and he might love her smile more than her eyes.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

He surprised himself – and Emma – with his question:

“Can I take you to dinner?”

She stopped smiling, her mouth hanging open – a deer in headlights.

“Okay.” And she looked as surprised by her own answer as he felt by it.

“Okay.” He smiled at her.

“So, where were you heading in such a rush that you didn’t notice the _giant_ spot of black ice in the road?” She’d moved a bit closer – though he wasn’t sure if it was consciously or not.

“I was heading home, actually. I’d just, er, been to the cemetery. Flowers on graves on Christmas and all that.”

Her face fell once again, and he found himself wishing he had a happier tale to tell her, just to lift the corners of her mouth again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. They’re a long time gone. My mum and my older brother.”

“Would you tell me about them?”

She had a strange look in her eyes, as though she were a child and he had a book of fairytales to read her. He looked around and noticed a distinct lack of photographs.

She was alone, too, then.

So he told her about his mother – her kindness, her affinity for storytelling and baking cookies, her strength, right up until the end. And Liam, the stubborn older brother who’d always known what was right, and who Killian had never listened to. She listened leaning in until her head was on his shoulder. The sun went down, and he was still talking, realizing it had been ages since he’d had someone to share Liam with.

“He sounds wonderful,” Emma whispered.

“He was.”

“Thank you for sharing him with me.”

“Of course.”

“I have to leave soon.”

“I know.”

“I kind of don’t want to move.”

He chuckled at that, and she lifted her head to look at him.

He was struck again by her eyes. Just green. And inconsequential. But he’d dreamt of them so much that they’d become something more. He forced himself to look away from them, finding himself instead staring at her mouth.

She kissed him suddenly, and it almost hurt, with parts of his body still aching from his fall, but he welcomed the pain if it came with her lips on his. Her right hand went to grab his left, and she realized too late that there wasn’t one there.

“Shit, Killian, I’m sorry.” She tried to move away but he held her steady.

“Don’t be. It’s fine. Truly.”

She searched his eyes for a lie, for discomfort, and seemed to find none. So she kissed him again, choosing to grab his hair instead of his stump.

“I do have to leave,” she whispered against his mouth.

“I know,” he said again. He pulled out his phone and opened the Uber app.

“Is your ankle okay?”

“I think it’ll be fine.”

“I could check it out in the morning, when my shift is over. If you want. I’m not a doctor, but--,”

“Breakfast at Granny’s, then?”

“You want me to check your ankle at the diner?” She’d pulled away from him again, laughing while she pulled on her boots.

“We both know you’re not checking my ankle – you simply wanted an excuse to see me again,” he raised an eyebrow, smirking at her.

She blushed, and he knew he was right. She stood and helped him to the door.

“Right, well, you survive Christmas night as an EMT, and I’ll reward you with whatever you’d like at the diner tomorrow morning.”

She grinned.

“I get done at 8. I’ll be tired.” They waited in the foyer for his ride to appear.

“Breakfast and then a nap. Sounds lovely. Can’t wait.” He kissed her on the cheek and hobbled out to meet the car that was coming around the corner.

“You don’t have my number!” She called after him.

“You know where I’ll be,” he yelled back.

And sure enough, at 8:15AM, blonde curls and tired green eyes joined Killian in a booth at Granny’s, and they shared a plate of waffles before heading back to her apartment for a nap and a thorough examination of his ankle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the challenge will go as follows:  
> • Dec 23: Christmas throughout the years (any time period) - a RE-WRITE of a fic I wrote 4 years ago. It was a gift for OUASS that was never received (the giftee deactivated and NO I'M NOT STILL BITTER WHAT DO YOU MEAN) so I'm going to give it some love and make it great for all of you!  
> • Dec 24:Strangers meeting - A NEW YEAR'S EVE theme instead of Christmas  
> • Dec 25: Free for all - Likely also a New Year's Eve theme, but I'm leaving it open-ended for the moment ;) (Prompts welcome @ awkwardnessandbaseball on tumblr :D )


	10. Day Ten: 12/23/17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Challenge:  
> • Dec 23: Christmas throughout the years (any time period)
> 
> As mentioned, this is a slight re-working of an old OUASS gift that went un-received (the giftee deactivated Tumblr). I've left the premise the same, and just tried to re-word some things to improve the quality. For the record, I don't LOVE Killian's characterization in this (as far as canon goes), but I'm really attached to the story so here it is :P

**December 25th, 2006**

What kind of company held their employee Christmas party on Christmas? Didn’t they know people had their own families to be with?

Not that Emma Swan knew anything about that, but _still_ , the sentiment was there.

Yet, despite the event being adults-only, the banquet hall was packed with Story Brooke Pharmaceuticals, Inc. employees – the babysitters in town must have been making double time.

Emma had no interest in being at a company party, especially on Christmas. But, she’d had the off-the-shoulder shimmery silver dress in the back of her closet since last New Year’s Eve, when her date cancelled on her and never called back.

She really _hadn’t_ been looking to wear it, instead preferring to glare at it every time she shifted past it while looking for something to wear, but Ruby, her desk-mate, roommate, and best friend, had convinced her to come, and it was the only thing close to appropriate enough for the fancy evening.

“Come on, Emma, it might be fun! I’m miles away from family, and you and I only have each other, so we might as well be together, and I’d really like to go—,” she’d rambled.

“First of all,” Emma laughed, “you also have your stud boyfriend, so you and I do _not_ ‘only have each other.’” She tapped her finger on her chin. “And since you’ve never shown any interest in the party before this year, my guess is that he wants to go, so you want to go to make sure he’s not hitting on the caterers and bartenders.”

“I also already bought a dress,” Ruby admitted. “Please come, Emma. I know we’ve never wanted to go before, but it could be fun. It won’t be Christmas if you don’t come with me. It can be your gift to me!”

“I already bought your gift, and it’s awesome, as usual, but I guess I can return it…,” They had always exchanged gifts on the 26th – a small tradition of their own that they’d started on their first Christmas in the apartment together. So Emma still had the strappy, bright red stripper heels locked away in her closet, wrapped in matching wrapping paper with Ruby’s name scrawled across the top of the box in Sharpie.

“No! Don’t do that…this can just be extra. Because you love me.” Ruby gave Emma her patented wolfish grin, and Emma knew she’d lost. “You can wear the dress from last New Year’s!”

So, she did, and she regretted it instantly. Not because it was too fancy, but because it wasn’t her, at all. Emma was a ‘jeans and a hoodie’ kind of girl. She wore knee length pencil skirts and button ups to work, but that was as dressed up as she got. A skintight dress that only went halfway down her thighs was not her style.

 

She regretted it even more when she saw that the reason Ruby had begged her to come had nothing to do with the two of them being together for Christmas. It wasn’t even so she could keep an eye on her flirt of a boyfriend.

Emma had been tricked into a double date.

She’d seen Killian, who worked in sales with Ruby’s boyfriend Victor, a few times, but their paths rarely crossed. Ruby had mentioned weeks ago that he’d asked about her, but Emma had shrugged it off. She didn’t date co-workers.

But here she was, on the arm of one of the best-looking co-workers she had. At least three of the other girls from accounting shot her nasty glares from various spots in the room, along with a few other women she’d never even seen.

Great. Merry Christmas indeed.

But Emma knew she had to make the best of it. So, she made polite conversation with Killian while they sipped wine and raided the buffet table. He wasn’t a bad guy, and in any other situation, she’d love to go on a real date with him. But Emma Swan did not date guys she worked with.

 

**December 25th, 2007**

“Killian, you’re lucky you’re getting me to go to that stupid work party with you – a second time, actually, since I was tricked into going with you last year,” Emma glared at Ruby while balancing the phone between her ear and her shoulder. “I am not going out for New Year’s Eve with you.” Emma was pacing her bedroom while she spoke. Ruby sat on her bed, shaking her head at the stubborn blonde.

Despite her best efforts, Ruby couldn’t get Emma to budge on her “I don’t date co-workers” idea. She knew why Emma felt that way, but Ruby had always been a big fan of leaving the past behind. But Killian was extremely tight with Ruby’s boyfriend, so it just sort of…made sense for the four of them to hang out. And poor Killian tried. He had tried every approach he knew to get a girl to just give him one chance, but she just wouldn’t give in.

If Emma had truly been uninterested, it would have been annoying and off-putting for Killian to keep trying. But they _all_ knew she was – knew she was just stubborn and unwilling to change.

She blushed and giggled and nervously brushed strands of hair away from her face whenever Killian flirted with her. But whenever she felt herself getting too close, she shut down. It was killing Ruby to see her best friend this way, just like it was killing all of them to see Killian so close to giving up, but unwilling to do so.

Ruby didn’t understand why Emma was making a big deal out of New Year’s. Emma and Killian had become so close, despite – or because of – their feelings for each other. The fact that she wouldn’t date him didn’t stop them from bonding. For a few months, Emma had refused to see him without Ruby and Victor. Making it a group outing was much more acceptable to her. But once she’d seen the obvious connection she had with Killian, she had realized that she finally had someone to see horror movies with (Ruby hated them), to go to baseball games with (Ruby didn’t do sports), and someone who could work on her damn yellow bug that broke down every other week.

So, while Emma wouldn’t date a co-worker, she had no qualms about being close friends with one, despite their attraction to each other.

“Fine,” Emma was saying now. “I’ll go, but I get to pick your outfit this time. And you have to wear it no matter what.” She hung up before he could argue.

“You sure put up a big fight on that one, Em,” Ruby rolled her eyes. “Why won’t you just admit you like the guy? Admit that you enjoy spending time with him and you like him being your arm candy when you go places?”

“Because I don’t like him, Ruby. He’s my friend – my best friend, aside from you. He’s the first person I’ve met since we moved out here that I can really talk to. But that’s what friends are for.”

“He’s the hottest friend I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re hotter than he is,” Emma smirked.

“Maybe so, but I’m already taken,” Ruby winked and sashayed out the door to finish getting ready for the annual Christmas party. She’d get Emma to admit her feelings sooner or later.

 

**December 25th, 2008**

“Did you hear something?”

“No. I didn’t. For the third time. Please stop being paranoid.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I heard something. Ruby’s awake. You’ve gotta go.” Emma turned on the light in her bedroom and turned to face Killian. “I’m serious,” she insisted, but her initial urgency faded when she looked at him.

Killian was nothing like the men Emma usually went for. And that made him so much better than he already was. He was rugged and rough around the edges. He drank cheap beer and expensive rum. His wardrobe consisted of various shades of black and gray, with the occasional blue or red sneaking in. Emma normally fell for clean cut guys who did shots at the bar and wore shorts even when it was cold out. They usually ended up breaking her heart.

“Yes, love, you sound very serious,” he chuckled as he pulled her back to him. “Ruby left the party two full hours before we did. She’s been asleep ever since, and you know it. You’re always telling me she’s a heavy sleeper.” He reached behind her head and turned the light back off. She rested her head on his chest and let out a deep sigh.

“We should have just gone to your apartment, like we always do. I don’t understand why we had to come here. You know I don’t want Ruby to know about this. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Emma hadn’t meant to give in to Killian. She really wanted to see him as a friend – and he was a damn good one. Whenever she needed anything, no matter how big or how small, he was there. He opened jars and fixed broken drawers and kept the yellow bug running and was always willing to pretend to be her boyfriend if some guy at the bar was getting too touchy. But she did not ever want to date a co-worker again. She’d done it before, and it had ended so badly that she and Ruby had moved from Maine to New York City just to get away from the aftermath. Well, she’d moved because of the drama, and Ruby had come with her because they’d been inseparable since high school. Emma didn’t even let herself think about it anymore. She simply didn’t date co-workers.

But then Valentine’s Day happened. Emma hated more than anything that of all the days of the year, that had been the day that had done her in.

Ruby was out with Victor, who’d planned some elaborate date with dinner and wine and a carriage ride. She was sure he was going to propose, but kept her smile on when he didn’t.

Meanwhile, Emma had planned a date with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked and the movie Half Baked. It was going to be perfect. And then Killian showed up with flowers – orchids, her favorite. And he’d said no one should be alone on Valentine’s Day, because that’s what all the happy couples wanted the single people to do: stay home and be miserable and alone. And he told her that she couldn’t give in to those people, so she had to come out and have a drink with him.

She’d known, of course, that it was a ploy to get her to go on a date with him on the most romantic night of the year. But he knew her well, and he knew that remarks like that were the way to her heart, and so she gave in.

She feigned surprise when he pulled up at a fancy restaurant and gave his name to the host, saying he had a reservation. He knew she wasn’t surprised, but he was only more glad that she’d come anyway, despite knowing what he was up to.

She’d only had one glass of wine, but her face was flushed pink and she was giggling more than usual, and finally she blurted out, “I wish we didn’t work together. We’d be so good together, but I don’t date co-workers.” She knew she was sober, but she would later blame her outburst on the alcohol, hoping Killian hadn’t noticed how little she’d had.

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to respond. In the year and some months they’d spent getting to know each other, she’d never admitted that she had any sort of feelings for him. He knew Ruby said she did, and of course he hoped that she felt even a fraction of the connection he felt, but she’d never actually said anything. This needed to be handled delicately.

“So, let’s not date,” he raised an eyebrow. Brilliant, Jones, he thought to himself sarcastically. He’d meant it to be a joke, but she considered it.

And so began the relationship that brought them to Emma and Ruby’s apartment on Christmas. Normally, she spent nights at Killian’s whenever Ruby was with Victor, but Killian never spent the night at her place. That felt like too much for her, though she couldn’t explain why. But they’d both had too much to drink to do any driving, and the hotel the annual Christmas party had been at was around the corner from Emma’s.

“I wish you would just tell her. She knows something’s going on, and you know she hates it when you hide things from her,” Killian rubbed Emma’s back. He tried constantly to get her to at least tell her best friend what was going on, but he knew why she wouldn’t. It was the same reason she didn’t want him to spend the night at her place: that felt too much like a relationship. When she snuck out on nights that Ruby wasn’t around and then snuck back in before Ruby came home, it was a tryst, and that was all. But telling anyone about it would only make it a real thing.

Killian felt that it already was real. He’d thought so from the moment he’d seen her in that silver dress at the Christmas party, despite the scowl on her face when she realized she’d been set up. He’d asked about her before that, but it had just been attraction then. After they spent the evening together, he knew he wanted more. And the more time they’d spent together, the more he’d wanted it.

If she hadn’t been at all interested, if she’d fought him off or flat out rejected him, he would have left her alone without a second thought. But she only turned him down because of her rule about co-workers – a rule he still didn’t fully understand. They didn’t even work on the same floor or in the same department. They saw each other rarely unless they purposely stopped by to see each other or made plans for lunch. He just didn’t understand. And while he was very much enjoying their time together, which was getting more and more frequent, he still wanted something more with her.

“I can’t tell her, Killian, because she’ll think there’s more to it than there is. She’ll think we’re dating, and that’s not what this is. I don’t date co-workers.”

“Are you ever going to tell me why?”

Emma considered it. She yawned, though she was wide awake, and used her sleepy voice, hoping she still sounded drunk, even though she’d sobered up hours before.

“I had a thing with a guy back home in Boston at my last job. It ended badly.”

“That’s it? Lots of relationships end badly, love. But you’d still date me if we didn’t work together, you said so yourself.” He was trying not to sound cocky, but he knew it wasn’t working. His eyebrow raised of its own accord in the darkness of the bedroom.

“Yeah well, he made work really difficult. And I loved my job. I worked for a non-profit, so the money wasn’t great, but I was helping foster kids adjust to their new homes, making sure they weren’t being abused. I obviously had my degree in accounting, and that would have paid more, but I loved helping those kids. They didn’t talk to social workers, like my ex, but they talked to me and to each other when I had them in groups. It was great. And then Neal stopped letting me see them, one by one. He would say I was interfering with their families, that I was doing more harm than good. He took them all away, and it was crap because he was a social worker and they listened to him and not me, and I cared about those kids a hundred times more than he did.” She was crying. She didn’t know when she’d started crying, but she felt the wet spots on Killian’s shirt under her cheek. She stopped there, leaving out the post-breakup pregnancy scare and his insistence that they absolutely could not, under any circumstances, keep it. She had known he was right – it was an awful situation to bring a child into – but that he’d wanted nothing to do with it at all had hurt her deep down inside.

She considered telling him that the reason she’d loved that job so much, had been so heart-broken when Neal had taken the kids away from her, was because she’d been one of those kids herself. But she was already crying, already too emotional for something that was definitely _not_ a relationship. So she stopped talking and just listened to Killian’s heart beating against her ear.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just rubbed her back and wiped her face until she finally hiccupped, took a deep breath, and sat up.

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Why on earth are you sorry, love? I asked you what happened, and you told me. And none of what happened was your fault. Sounds to me like you dated a jackass. But…much as it pains me to say it, I understand your aversion to dating people you work with, despite it being a very different situation. I’ll stop bothering you about it, but I can’t promise not to tease you every now and again. Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t do that,” he gently tugged her chin in his direction so she’d look at him.

“Thank you, Killian,” she’d worn herself out with her story and her sobbing. She didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t used to opening up to people, but something about Killian Jones was tugging at her heartstrings. Something about him made her want to be honest. She curled up into his side and fell asleep, feeling closer to him than she’d felt to anyone in a long time.

 

**December 25th, 2009**

“I still don’t understand why you need to move out on Christmas,” Emma wiped away another tear. “It’s bad enough that you’re leaving me, but you’re doing it on a holiday, too?”

“Oh, Emma, I know, I’m the worst. I’m sorry. But with me working two jobs now, today’s the only day Victor and I both have off to move. I’m really, really sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you. I love you too much.”

“Besides, we’ll still see each other literally every day at the office! It’s not so bad, right? And you can turn my bedroom into, like, a woman-cave or something,” Ruby suggested, her mind halfway back on pushing the last of her boxes into the hall for Victor and Killian to load into the car outside. She grabbed her ring from the coffee table, having taken it off so it wouldn’t get lost in the move. She held it out for inspection, like she’d done every time she’d put it on since Victor had finally proposed on her birthday the month before.

“Oh, I’ve got plans for your bedroom, but that’s not quite what I had in mind.”

That got Ruby’s attention.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you going to turn it into a den of sin,” Ruby grinned.

“Nothing! I’m just saying I don’t want a woman-cave, that’s all,” Emma insisted, but Ruby wasn’t letting her get off that easily.

She arched an eyebrow skeptically.

“Ever since I found you and Killian in your room at the end of the summer, you’ve been so weird. I’m still mad at you for keeping it from me, by the way.”

“I haven’t been weird! I just didn’t want anyone to know. If no one knew, it wasn’t a relationship…it was just two people sneaking around and enjoying each other’s…company. But then you found out and now Victor knows and soon other people at work will know and that’s when it’ll go to hell.”

“Oh please, Emma, you and I both know that’s not what’s bothering you. I’ve known for months now, and so has Victor. The world hasn’t exploded.” Ruby stepped in front of Emma and gripped her shoulders firmly. “So tell me what’s going on.”

“Your hot pink walls might be covered up by, like, ducky wallpaper or something, okay?” Emma rolled her eyes, determined not to get anymore emotional than she already was.

“Wait, are you saying…?”

“Yes, Ruby.”

“Does Killian know?” She shrieked.

“No, Ruby.”

“You know you have to tell him.”

“Not if he finds out right now from you yelling about it. Will you keep it down, please? They’ll be back inside any minute.”

“Emma, this is huge. It’s fantastic. Oh my gosh, I’m engaged, you’re pregnant, this is great!”

“How the hell is this great?”

“How’s what great, love?” Emma and Ruby both jumped at Killian’s voice.

“Just telling Ruby how pissed I am at her for moving out on me. On Christmas, no less. She’s saying we’ll still see each other at work, and I’m trying to tell her that’s not um…great.”

“I told you, Emma, I don’t have a choice! Victor offered to move in with the two of us—,”

“Yeah, and hear the two of you go at it every night? And morning. And some afternoons. No thanks,” Emma laughed, but she sounded nervous and she knew it.

“Well, Victor’s waiting for me so I’ll just leave you two to it,” Ruby’s voice was reaching a record high pitch – she was an awful liar, and she couldn’t risk Killian asking her any questions – and practically ran out the door.

“Now that she’s gone, Emma, I think we need to talk. I have to tell you something.”

A year ago, Emma may have been relieved to hear those words, undoubtedly leading to a break-up. She would have been glad to have him out of her hair, away from her so she could stop pretending she didn’t want him around. But now, there was no more denying how she felt about him, and they had other problems, which he didn’t even know about yet. Those were not words a girl in Emma’s shoes wanted to hear. She tried to stay calm, but she felt her face turn red while her eyes threatened to well up.

Damn hormones.

“Oh, Emma, no, no, it’s not what you’re thinking.” He rushed to her quickly, embracing her with a small laugh. “I just…I found something I think you should know about. I was taking out the trash a few weeks ago after you and Ruby had gone to lunch, and I found…ummm…you know, a test. I think Ruby’s pregnant, and she hasn’t told Victor yet. She’s moving in with him, and he’s a good friend and I just think he ought to know before—,”

“Did you tell him!?” Emma nearly screeched.

“No, I’d never do that without talking to you first. I just wondered if Ruby had told you anything about it, or….”

“The test wasn’t Ruby’s,” Emma blurted. It came out as one word: thetestwasntrubys.

“What’s that?” He nearly whispered. But the look on his face told Emma that he knew exactly what she’d said.

“The test. It wasn’t Ruby’s.”

“That test was positive, Emma.” He took a small step back, watching her closely.

“Yes. I know.”

“And that was nearly two weeks ago.”

“Yeah.”

“When….when were you going to tell me?”

“Uh. Right now, I guess.”

“So you’re…”

“Looks like it.”

And now, Emma knew, was when Killian would go off, talking about how they couldn’t afford a child, or that he hadn’t signed up for this when he’d climbed into her bed. He’d show his true colors, and Emma would be left alone again – but truly alone, without Ruby by her side – and with a human being growing inside of her.

“And you’re scared of how I’m going to react, which is why you’re watching me like a kid who just told his parents he got kicked out of school.”

“Little bit.”

He took a deep breath, and Emma prepared herself for the worst. She braced herself for cold, harsh words and his permanent exit from her apartment and her life.

“I love you, Emma. I’ve loved you for years. I’ve never wanted anyone else in my entire life the way I want you. Is this how I pictured it happening? Of course not. I’m old fashioned, you know – first comes love, then comes marriage, and all that. But that doesn’t make me any less thrilled. I’m ecstatic, to be honest with you. Scared as hell, but ecstatic. You know this means we have to tell people—,” but she kissed him before he could finish talking. “You really thought I was going to react badly? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Emma let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

“Well we’ve been through a lot, but I’ve never had to drop news like that on you before. I had no idea how you’d react.”

 _I only had my previous experience to go on_ , she thought.

“So you’re…happy, too?”

“I didn’t think I was, but I guess I was just scared of what you’d say. If you didn’t want anything to do with her—,”

“Her?! You already know? Christ, how far along are you?!”

“Well we can’t say ‘it’! Besides, I just…have a feeling. She’s a girl. I’m only about two months in – plenty of time to prepare ourselves.”

“And baby-proof the apartment. And you know, Swan, people are going to wonder whose it is…. Your ‘I don’t date co-workers’ plan is sort of shot, isn’t it? Unless you’re planning on making up a secret boyfriend.” He smirked. “Another secret boyfriend.”

Killian was scared, but he was excited. He’d known from the moment he met Emma that there was something special about her. And the closer they’d become over the years, the more his feelings for her grew. He’d considered quitting his job a hundred times if it meant she’d be with him, but he knew that wasn’t the way. He’d hoped she’d come around on her own eventually, and now it seemed she’d have to learn to live with it.

“About that… there’s something else I haven’t told you.” Emma started talking a mile a minute, afraid she’d quit halfway through if she didn’t just steamroll the whole thing out. “I’ve been job hunting. For months, actually. I haven’t even told Ruby – she’s going to be so pissed at me. Anyway, I finally got an offer. I haven’t…officially accepted. Yet. I’d be the head accountant over at the Mills farm. Apparently, the father, Henry, I think, passed away recently, and his daughter, Regina, wants to expand the business. They just sell produce to local merchants and small businesses right now, but she wants to start creating her own products and go statewide, and then nationwide if things go well. She wants to start with apple juice and sparkling apple cider, since her apple tree orchard is, like, the size of a New York City block, but then she wants to make her own…basically everything if that takes off. I won’t make much money at first, and it might fail, but I think I’m really going to enjoy it and, well….” Emma trailed off there. At some point while she’d been talking, she’d allowed Killian to lead her to the couch, and she somehow felt better already, sitting beside him on the plush cushions.

“And you don’t date co-workers,” Killian laughed. Emma was rarely nervous, so seeing her like this, first because of the big news, and now this follow up information, was a rare and exciting treat for him. After years of hearing her use their working relationship as an excuse to ban a real one, she was the one taking the leap: she was leaving her job for him. He’d never expected that turn of events.

He wasn’t sure which surprise was bigger, honestly.

“No, I don’t,” she said seriously, but a smile broke through.

And if you had asked Emma Swan three years ago – wow, had it really only been three years? – if she would sacrifice her well-paying, comfortable job where she sat across from her best friend in the entire world for a job with every chance in the world of failing and leaving her unemployed…just to be with a guy? She would have laughed in your face. But here she was, sitting on her couch, the only piece of furniture remaining in the living room since everything else had belonged to Ruby, with one of the hottest guys at that well-paying, comfortable job. And she’d told him the scariest news a not-boyfriend can hear from his not-girlfriend. And he’d been excited.

Apparently, Emma Swan was a risk-taker. Who knew?

So she took one more.

“You know, this whole ‘parenting’ thing would probably work better if we were under the same roof,” she couldn’t even look at him when she said it. She already knew he’d agree. She knew he’d move in with her, baby or no baby. It wasn’t rejection she was afraid of. “Plus, rent is expensive and Ruby’s gone, so…”

It was that damn “I told you so” smirk she knew would be on his face when he said ‘yes’. So she kissed it right off of his face.

 

**December 25th, 2014**

“Margaret! Mary! David! Dinner’s on the table, let’s go!” Emma waddled from the foot of the stairs to the dining room table, where Killian was holding the chair at the head of the table out for her. “Don’t even bother pushing it back in,” she sighed as she collapsed into it. Her very pregnant belly was nearly touching the table from where she was. “Whose idea was it to have twins? My God, I’m a house.”

“I don’t think it was anyone’s idea, love. It just happens on its own.” Killian stopped when he saw Emma’s glare.

“Watch it, Killian, those pregnancy hormones are nothing to mess with. We’ve had quite a time with it ourselves, haven’t we, Regina?”

“Yes, Robin, you’ve brought up hormones at every turn for the last three months. Quite a time, indeed.” Regina gave Emma a knowing look.

After Regina had taken over the family business and placed Emma in the head accountant position, the two of them had turned a small farm into a powerful business venture. Mills & Swan now proudly provided the tri-state area with fruits, juices, wines and ciders, as well as coffee, cocoa, and cinnamon. The two women had vastly different interests when it came to their product line, but they worked together every step of the way, and it wasn’t long before Regina decided that Emma needed to move from head of accounting to co-owner of the company. Regina was a tough cookie, and no one but Emma was able to see beneath the rough exterior and into the soft heart she had.

Well, no one but Emma and Robin.

“Have you decided on a name, Regina?” Ruby asked as she took her own seat on Emma’s other side.

“Yes, we’ve decided on Henry, after my father.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!”

“Ruby, are the kids coming?”

“I don’t think mine are finished torturing yours yet.”

“I doubt they ever will be. Poor kid.”

Shortly after Emma had left SBP, management decided that rather than hire someone to replace her, they would just give someone her share of the work: Ruby. And if her fiancé – now husband – hadn’t been the best sales rep the company had, she might have done exactly as she was told, no questions asked. But Victor knew they would stick her with all the work and no raise, and so he marched in on a management meeting and threatened to quit if they didn’t start treating their employees, especially one accountant in particular, fairly. It wasn’t a bluff, and they knew it: companies all across the city were trying to get Victor to leave SBP and it wouldn’t take much to push him right out the door. So, Ruby’s salary nearly doubled to match her workload, and they decided to buy a house the minute she found out she was pregnant with twins.

Emma had been wrong about her hunch: she’d had a boy. And even though he was a year older than Ruby’s girls, there were two of them and one of him, and he found himself constantly being dressed up and forced to sip pretend tea.

When Emma and Regina had gotten their first taste of success – a deal that made them each half a million dollars richer – Emma had bought a house. She didn’t even tell Killian until she was about to sign the papers. At first, he’d been upset that she’d made such a life-altering decision without him, but she explained her reasoning immediately: it was two doors down from Ruby. The two had been through so much together, and not working or living together was tough on both of them. When the house went up for sale and Emma had the money, she had to purchase it, no questions asked.

It certainly helped that there were a few spare bedrooms for life events like finding out you were pregnant with twins.

Emma had been pregnant for Ruby’s bachelorette party, so she’d been the designated driver. She’d also asked to invite Regina, who had been so focused on the business that she hadn’t had a night out in ages. The bartender, Robin, made the best apple martini Regina had ever had – or at least that was the excuse she’d used to keep talking to him the whole night. At first, it was just business: he had a degree in marketing that was obviously not being put to good use, and she needed staff to get the business off the ground. Soon, he was staying late to help with other things. Emma knew the signs, obviously, and she waited for Regina to come clean to her. Which she did.

Luckily, Regina wasn’t as against dating co-workers, or subordinates. Since Robin was the only marketing employee, he was technically the head of marketing, and therefore management. So it really wasn’t that bad, she said.

“My company, my rules,” she added.

Robin had been so nervous when he’d finally decided to propose on her birthday – Victor had convinced him there was no way she’d say no on her birthday – that he had called Emma and tried to get her to do it for him. Regina had walked in while he’d been on the phone, heard the words, “what if she says no,” and seen the black box in his hand.

“She won’t,” she’d said, and Robin had almost dropped his phone.

The men were bringing in dinner just as the kids ran through the dining room.

“Hi Aunt Regina!” David hugged her and took the seat next to her.

“Honey, I think Uncle Robin’s going to want to sit there.”

“No, no, I like this one better,” Regina smiled and hugged David close. “I hope my Henry grows up to be just like you.”

“I’ve left the rolls warming in the oven because—,” Killian started.

“If you say because there are buns in the ovens out here, I’m going to stab you with the carving knife from the turkey,” Emma said without looking up from filling up a plate for her son from the various dishes in the center of the table.

Killian knew better than to think she was joking.

After dinner and drinks – only sparkling cider for the two mothers-to-be – everyone went home and Emma marveled at how quiet and empty the house was.

“It feels like there’s been a hundred people here lately – late night gift wrapping with Ruby, her kids staying over all the time, business stuff with Regina and Robin because God forbid we all take the holiday off without making up the work in advance. And now, it’s just…quiet.” She leaned back into her pile of pillows.

“Well, don’t get too used to quiet around here, love,” Killian kissed her enormous belly. “One was loud. Two at once…it’s a good thing we’re not in that apartment anymore. It wasn’t exactly soundproof.”

“Mommy, Daddy…,” a small voice came from the doorway. “Can I sleep in here tonight? My room is too quiet without Mary and Margaret in there with me.”

Killian hopped up from the bed and scooped up his son.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way, kid,” Emma smiled as David curled into her side and Killian kissed her cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Emma.”

“Merry Christmas, Killian.”

And after she was asleep, he slipped a small black box under her pillow. When she woke up, it would be the day after Christmas, but it was something he knew she wouldn’t have wanted to open in front of her friends. ‘Too much pressure,’ she’d say. So he left it there for when she undoubtedly made the bed in the morning, despite his thousands off offers to do it himself. And then she’d smile to herself, turn around to find him in the doorway, and if his luck hadn’t run out already – he’d already found the woman of his dreams, gotten her to date him despite her fears, and started a family with her – she’d say yes.


End file.
